A Series of Unexpected and Highly Dangerous Meetings
by lunartick
Summary: Sequel to A Series of Romantic Burning Buildings. Where everyone learns how difficult it is to tell who the real monsters are.
1. The beginning

Hello everybody! My, it's been a while, hasn't it? I am so, _so_ sorry for taking so long to post this story, which is a sequel to A Series of Romantic Burning Buildings, of course. My greatest apologies. As I've explained to those who have kindly asked after me (hi Fio682 and TheParadoxicalOtaku!), I got a job middle of last year and a whole slew of adult responsibilities, so I don't really have time to write as much as I would love to. I am still writing though, regularly, but perhaps only once a week. That means, I would rather prefer having the entire story down first before posting. This is to avoid readers having to wait too long between chapters (I take about a week or so to edit each chapter). So sorry and all that.

At any rate, more about this story: It takes place immediately after A Series of Romantic Burning Buildings (the day after). It's not about the Dark Continents since Togashi has disappeared off the face of the earth. It is also quite a different type of story, as I was experimenting with a different style of setting/narrative etc. This is a much darker story and there are scary images in it, so if you have a rather low tolerance for gore/horror etc, you might want to bow out now. If you are willing to stick around, thank you very much. I hope you enjoy the story. It was an absolute terror to write (had to re-write it several times in fact). Please leave a review to let me know if you like it!

Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter, _Logic of Sense_, and any other books/movies/songs etc referenced in this story (other than _The Inaccessible Unconscious_) do not belong to me.

* * *

A Series of Unexpected and Highly Dangerous Meetings

The rising sun was exceptionally beautiful that morning. Soft and orange, it spread over the sprawling metropolis that was York Shin, casting it in a warm glow that gave the corrupt city an unusually friendly and welcoming demeanour. A light breeze, delicious cool, swept across the city, taking with it the usual stench of city life and replacing it with something a little cleaner, a little sweeter. Birds, those that had not been wiped out by the city's overly zealous pest control, filled the city with gentle coos. It was as much a paradise as York Shin, a city run by the mafia, could get.

Kuroro Lucifer opened his eyes, took one look at this beautiful setting, grouchily muttered "Stupid sun" and tried to go back to sleep.

Despite the long night before, he found himself incapable of returning to the sweet land of dreams. Broken bones and torn flesh ached, tugging at his consciousness and reminding him that he was in as many pieces as a human body could be without actually falling apart. The bed seemed overly warm, making his scars itch. The stupid wind coming in through Midoya's window kept flapping the sheets into his face. It was hell on earth and it was interrupting his sleep. Kuroro sighed in resignation, opened his eyes again and stared at the plain, white ceiling above him, adorned only by a throwing knife that had been split in half by another of its kind. Glancing to his side, he caught sight of Midoya, Two Star Blacklist Hunter and his lover (most days), snoring peacefully away.

Just yesterday, the two of them had managed to stop an assassination on her by the Zoldycks, acting under the orders of mafia don Richard Temple, who was now dead. Many things had happened, and as was normally the case when he worked with Midoya, the both of them had ended up with multiple bone fractures, large gaping wounds and horrendous burns. Even the forgiving half-light of dawn couldn't soften the purple bruises on Midoya's face or hide the unsightly knots on her arm where her bones had shattered under the attack of the powerful Zeno Zoldyck.

Kuroro supposed he didn't look much better since he had been standing right next to Midoya when the attack came down on her. At least he didn't have to worry about looking like he just got beaten up. He _was_ Dancho of the Genei Ryodan, infamous A class criminals born from the shit-hole that is Meteor City; getting roughed up by a bunch of deadly assassins was pretty much all in a day's work. Midoya on the other hand was also June Kito, honourary mafia, rich heiress and calculative capitalist. June, being the type of person to send people to do her fighting instead of doing it herself, was not supposed to look like she had run into the wrong kind of crowd in the nasty part of town where the poor people live. It was probably a good thing then that Midoya was as good with make-up and disguises as she was with Nen. A better chameleon, Kuroro had never met, than his Midoya.

Lying back and feeling his wounds ache, it occurred to Kuroro how unfair it was that he wasn't able to get more rest while Midoya could, so he deliberately poked her in the calf with his toe. That snapped her back to wakefulness and her eyes opened immediately.

"Ah, you are awake. Good morning," Kuroro said innocently, turning over to give her a kiss.

"Good morning," Midoya mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. Her eyes roved around and he knew she was trying to figure out what had woken her. He didn't bother to enlighten her. The key to a healthy relationship, he had discovered, is the withholding of painful truths at the appropriate times. After a while, she gave up. Yawning, she turned around to snuggle against him. "What time is it?" she asked sleepily into his chest.

"The best I can tell you is that it is dawn," Kuroro told her wryly. "You don't have a clock in here, Midoya dear. You really need to get your new penthouse furnished." He glanced around the room, taking in the bed (the sole piece of furniture in the entire house) and the piles of book spilling all over the floor. Prior to this, Midoya had been living in a different penthouse in the same building. She had moved to this one to escape him because she had thought he was trying to kill her. It was a horrible misunderstanding that had taken a few explosions, near death, and awesome sex to resolve. Just a few more of the key ingredients essential for a healthy and normal relationship.

"Mmm," Midoya murmured, and pressed her face against his neck. "We can do it today. I don't have anything on till the evening when I have to meet Sally Temple." She smiled. "I put aside most of three days to deal with the problem that is you, my violent, fearsome Kuroro."

"I am flattered," Kuroro told her. He paused for a while then questioned, "We? I'm helping you move?"

"Since you are the reason I moved, yes, 'we'," Midoya replied, and he could feel her smiling against his skin. "It shouldn't take too long. It's just a matter of moving the furniture over from my old place. Lucy will be happy to help."

"Why don't you just move back to your old place?" Kuroro suggested. "It would save you a lot of trouble."

"It will cause more trouble, you mean, since I've already sold it to another powerful and rich Hunter named Nicole. She is very possessive and obsessive, and quite paranoid about most things. Having to buy the apartment back from her will just result in a lot of… fires. Again. Just like when I sold her the apartment. I thought it would be funny if you tried going there and ran up into her instead. She's… well… odd. Unusual. Quite a sweet young lady when she isn't busy being an arsonist." Midoya yawned. "Besides, I like my new place. The piping is less faulty."

"Alright," Kuroro said with a shrug. "I'll help you. But you'll owe me a favour."

"Petty, petty," Midoya scolded, though her smile told him she was only teasing. "We should get up, huh?"

"Sometime in the future, that would be a good idea, yes," Kuroro agreed, pulling her closer to him and burying his nose in her hair. "But I'm feeling lazy so we should put that off till later."

"Mmm," Midoya hummed and relaxed in his embrace. "What do you think, by the way, about what Pariston said?"

"Ah." Kuroro thought back to the night before when Pariston had interrupted them during sex with his proposal: to bring Midoya to the Dark Continents, the forbidden lands beyond the world that was theirs. Though Pariston hadn't stayed long, what he had said had distracted Midoya enough that she hadn't been in the mood for sex after. That was just plain disappointing given how she had willingly donned a collar for him that night. Since that was all Pariston's fault, Kuroro felt no qualms in declaring, "I don't trust him."

"But of course, dear. Neither do I."

"Though I must admit the prospect of exploring the Dark Continent is… alluring."

"It'll either be a great adventure or a massive disappointment, as exploring new worlds tend to be." He felt Midoya shift slightly, probably to take pressure off broken bones. "And there's Netero's son." She paused. "I never knew he had a son, which doesn't say much since Netero knows me well and thus knows to keep anyone he has any fondness for away from me. Still, it is weird I've never even heard of his existence before. I wonder if the man is truly who he says he is."

"Why wouldn't he be?" Kuroro asked curiously.

"Well, I can't imagine Netero having sex. He's too… too spiritual for that. Presumably sex is necessary for babies to be made. Of course it is possible to clone himself, I suppose, but Netero is fairly old-school when it comes to things like this."

"Oh." Though Kuroro had never met the man in person before, he had seen him in a video addressed to Midoya and the Zodiacs, and his impression was that of a charismatic, powerful, and bat-shit crazy leader. Not someone necessarily particularly spiritual in the way most people would understand the word, but… transcendental, he supposed. Someone who had moved to a stage beyond the physical body. "I suppose you are right." He regarded the top of Midoya's head thoughtfully. "You seem more interested in this 'son' than the Dark Continent."

Midoya chuckled but didn't reply. "Let's get up," she said instead, sitting up and stretching carefully to avoid breaking Machi's Nen threads which were holding her bones together. "Pariston can wait for an answer from me. On the other hand, I have about a ton of books lying on my floor and I believe they will do better sitting on shelves."

"They will," Kuroro agreed, since he didn't like dog-ears in his books as much as Midoya seemed to given the abhorrent way she treats them. "A quick shower and breakfast seems in place. Do you have anything edible here?"

"Just some instant noodles, canned tuna and a few bars of chocolate."

"I said 'edible', Midoya." Kuroro mock-frowned at her and she laughed. "I'll get some groceries after we shower and make us something that actually contains more nutritional value than a plastic bag."

"Picky," Midoya said fondly. "But, since you have the unique ability to make healthy food taste delicious, I shall go along with it. Shall we take a shower then?"

"Together?"

"It saves water."

"And you will wear the collar?" Kuroro asked hopefully.

Midoya gave him a look. "You wouldn't stop asking till I do, will you?"

"Of course I will," Kuroro said cheerfully. "I just wouldn't make breakfast for you." He smiled faintly. "I'm planning on making chicken pie. You know I make a very good chicken pie."

"You make a very good everything dear." Midoya's smile turned seductive as she slinked towards the bathroom. "Alright. Just for today, I shall give in to your not entirely unreasonable whims. But you're the one washing up after we're done."

* * *

So it was that after a pleasant shower which took slightly longer than usual thanks to Kuroro's sudden and probably unhealthy obsession with what she was wearing, Midoya found herself standing in her old penthouse, looking around at her old furniture and wondering how the hell she had managed to accumulate so much rubbish in the years she lived there. It wasn't like she bought a lot of things; with her lifestyle as it was, her possessions tended to get destroyed more often than not. Yet here she was, looking at the pile of things that were her belongings and trying to remember why on earth she had bought that many copies of _Logic of Sense _in the first place.

"Well, this is going to take longer than expected," Midoya mused resignedly. "Never knew my house was that big or contained that many things."

But then, despite her natural tendency towards messiness, she did run half the red-light district in York Shin, and surely clearing up her old apartment couldn't be more difficult than that? All she needed to do was divide her belongings into what she wanted to keep and what she wanted to toss, right? That should be easy. There was some space in her bedroom since her bed was no longer in it. So, things she wanted to keep will go into the left side of the room and things she wanted to toss should go into the right. Easy.

Half an hour later found her utterly wrong.

Standing at the entrance of her old bedroom, Midoya glanced around it and knew immediately that she was doing something wrong. Even though all she had done was go through her remaining DVD collection and her books (which were the items most of her money went into), the left side of her room was stacked from wall to ceiling while there was nothing on the right side.

"I may have eight copies of _Logic of Sense_ but they're all different. Surely I can't toss all of them away," she had thought. Evidently that was a mentality that was highly detrimental to the process of housekeeping, so she had to start all over again.

Frowning severely at the offending copies, Midoya picked them up, sat them on the floor before her, and tried to decide which copy she wanted to keep. It wasn't that easy. This copy had a commentary by the editor, quite a bright mind himself though not quite as well-known, but this other copy had another commentary by a different editor who was equally intelligent and perhaps funnier. And this copy didn't have a commentary, but it had a picture of a cat on it, and what a sweet darling that cat was. Ah, so that was how she ended up with eight copies of the exact same book.

Finally, Midoya decided to just close her eyes and grabbed a book at random. Unfortunately, when she shut her eyes, she realised that she had unintentionally memorised exactly where each book lay. Having a photographic memory was not really all it was made out to be.

Evidently the books were going to require a second opinion from Kuroro. With his cold, practical personality, she knew she could depend on him to destroy the books that she shouldn't be keeping. Either that, or she could just give him the books she didn't want. She had a sneaky feeling that somewhere in Meteor City was a large, large building stocked with Kuroro's books. He did steal a lot of them and he hardly ever sold any. It might be fun trying to get him to bring her to that place… but that could wait. As for now… Midoya whipped out her phone and dialled his number.

"_Kuroro."_

"Dear," Midoya said fondly as she shuffled the books in front of her idly, "I can't decide which copy of _Logic of Sense_ to throw."

"_Which are the ones you have?" _

"Every single edition in print."

"_That can't be, dear. That's eight editions."_

"Exactly."

"_Really? Why do you have… never mind, I'm sure I wouldn't understand. Keep the third edition." _

"Why?"

"_Because I wrote the introduction to that edition so I know it is a lot more coherent and intelligent than the introductions to all the other editions." _

"Oh." Midoya blinked and looked at the book in question (intelligent but not well-known). "You're Stephen Edison? Why that name?"

"_It's taken from Stephen Hawking and Thomas Edison of course."_

"Yes, I realised. But why use those two names for a book called _Logic of Sense_."

"_Because it isn't logical or sensible to do so." _

"Ah. Funny."

"_Is there anything else? I'm still shoplifting at the grocery store, and it's generally easier to do that when I'm not talking to you on the phone." _

"Well." Midoya glanced at her pile of books. "I have another two hundred or so titles to go through."

"_And how many books in total?"_

"Oh… not that many. About… five hundred and fifty-six books."

"_Goodness, Midoya, I can't help you sort out the disastrous results of your idiosyncrasies now. If I do it now, by the time I get back, it'll be lunch time." _

"Alright, alright. I'll leave it till after breakfast. Go back to enjoying yourself."

"_Yes. Later." _

"Later."

On to her clothes then. That should be easier. Most of her clothes barely survived a month before getting torn, bloodied and basically made un-wearable. Surely she wouldn't be too attached to her clothes?

Ten minutes later, Midoya looked at the barren right side of her room and muttered, "But I _do_ need five black slacks. I wear them all the time; they're acceptable in most situations, comfortable and bloodstains don't show on them. And I don't always get to do the laundry so I need more than one pair. And… ah screw it." With a ruthlessness more befitting of June than Midoya, she tossed two of the oldest pairs into the right side of the room. Then she swapped one pair for a newer but less comfortable one. Because she didn't like to think of herself as an ageist person. Ageism is a terrible thing. Terrible.

There. Progress. That perked her up considerably, and once she started, it was easier to just let go. "This goes, this goes and this goes," Midoya said with great satisfaction as she simply started tossing items she hadn't touched in more than a month into the Throw-Away Corner. "I am the paragon of self-control," she declared triumphantly when the pile was finally neatly sorted.

Pleased with herself, Midoya next ventured into the living room and examined the emptied shelves. Her initial plan had been to just move everything over to her new place, but on closer inspection, some of the shelves seemed rather worn and on the verge of breaking. That _might_ be because she had a tendency to overload her shelves with heavy items – like guns. Very heavy, those. Especially when the guns were rocket launchers. Or canons. Or missiles. Was that her missing nuclear bomb at the back of that shelf? Nope. It was just a standard incendiary bomb. Pity. Where on earth did that missile go to anyway?

Either way, it probably would be nice to get some new shelves. Maybe she could drag Kuroro along since he was always complaining about the clashing colours of her old room. Goodness, why was she dragging Kuroro into everything? She was normally not this clingy. Evidently his sweet and tear-wrenchingly romantic gesture of blowing up her brothel had inspired a great deal of domestic bliss in her. She probably needed to correct that by doing something immoral and decadent to Kuroro tonight – something with handcuffs perhaps or blindfolds. There were some positive sides to having extra sensitive senses…

A sudden presence flaring up behind her took her entirely by surprise. It wasn't because she hadn't realised there was someone behind her. She was surprised because though she had caught the sound of someone in Zetsu climbing up the side of her building for a while now, she had honestly not thought it would be him.

"Hello," she said, smiling warmly at the young man in a suit, "it's good to see you again, Kurapika."

* * *

She looked surprised, which just a year back would have made Kurapika feel pleased and probably just a little smug. But that was before a year of working as the bodyguard of a mafia boss had turned him into what she saw now: a young man with neatly-styled blonde hair and cold, black eyes in a dark, ill-fitting suit. Now, seeing her look surprised just made him think of how that was a sign of weakness. One can never afford to be taken by surprise in this harsh world.

Now her eyes were roving over him, and he saw her abstract information from his appearance and log it into her mental database. It was, in hindsight, something she had done when they'd first met, but he hadn't noticed it then. He, in turn, took her in. She was wearing a black bathrobe and no makeup at all. The acne on her face looked just as bad as he remembered, and she looked older, tired. Something about the fine lines around her eyes that hadn't been there the last time he saw her. By the state of the house, it seemed like she was moving. That was good; he had just caught her in time.

For though Kurapika had known she was living here since not long after they first met, this was the first time he had felt compelled to find her. Well, not the first time. That was when he had found out she was dating Kuroro Lucifer. The news had been all over the Hunter website shortly after Netero's death. That moment had been one of shock and utter betrayal. She had lied about everything. She had lied about not knowing Kuroro Lucifer, about capturing him, about everything. He knew now that she must have been the one who helped Kuroro Lucifer escape the HA building, though he couldn't even begin to fathom why she had arrested him in the first place. Kurapika had been furious. He had wanted to find her and kill her (or at least yell angrily at her). But that wouldn't do because he had also found out that she was June Kito, honourary mafia, and killing her (or yelling at her) would destabilise the position he had fought so hard to get.

Then just a few months later, things changed. Accessing the file labelled 'Hall of Shame' had shown Kuroro Lucifer's fake corpse face at the end of a long line of dead boyfriends. Kurapika had been told that they hadn't been able to find a more updated picture of the Spider; besides, since all the other pictures of Midoya's boyfriends were post-mortem, the Zodiacs had thought they might as well do the same for Kuroro Lucifer. Either way, he discovered she was no longer together with the Spider. That turned her into a potential information source. If he now knew for sure that she was no longer dating Kuroro Lucifer, he could come to her for information. It was obvious she knew him a lot more intimately than she had admitted, and that meant she knew his secrets, his powers, things that would help bring the Spider to complete annihilation.

But first, there was one thing he had to confirm.

"Are you a Spider?" he asked, bringing his hand up to show the chains there. A subtle threat and – the chains started to vibrate – a not so subtle threat.

She met his eyes calmly. "No dear, of course not," she said simply, and he was tempted to trust her, but he couldn't. Not after he had discovered what a good liar she was.

"Prove it," he said, his eyes glowing red behind his contacts.

Her eyebrow went up and her lips quirked in an ironic smile. "You have grown in the last couple of months," she noted. "Quite frankly, I'm not sure I like the direction you've grown in."

Neither did he, but that was beside the point. "Prove it," he repeated, letting his chains float to life.

She didn't even bother to look threatened. "No," she replied calmly. "I will not strip for you, boy. I don't see any reason why I need to prove anything to you either." Her eyes fixed on him, firm but not aggressive. "You're in my house. Well, it will be mine at least for today, and if you're in my house, you are my guest. If you want me to treat you as one then act the part. For your information, I strongly recommend you remain in my good books. The window is right behind you and I assure you, I can kick you out of it before you can even begin to unleash your chains on me."

For a moment, Kurapika hesitated. But the truth was, he had asked, not to prove her credentials, but to know for sure if he could use Chain Jail on her. Apparently, he would have to err on the side of caution and assume she wasn't a Spider.

Slowly, Kurapika lowered his hand until it hung by his side. The smile, warm and inviting, returned to her face. "Thank you, dear," she said and started to walk towards him.

Kurapika jerked in alarm. "Stay ba…" he started to say, but her arms wrapped around him and muffled his protest.

"Hello dear!" she beamed. "Oh, it is so good to see you again. Let me take a look at you. Oh! You look almost the same as the last time I saw you, just with a little more dark circles there. Have you been sleeping well? Ah, I expect not. Working for the Nostrad family is an absolute bitch, isn't it?" Smiling brightly, she ruffled his hair. "But, you're still as cute as a button. I'm so jealous of you!"

"Wha…?" Kurapika gaped, blinking confusedly at her and trying to smooth his hair back down at the same time. "What?"

Her eyes twinkled. "Take a sit," she said, manoeuvring him expertly onto a hideous orange couch. "Would you like some water?"

"Uh… yes please," Kurapika replied automatically then blinked again. "Wait a minute!" He shot to his feet as she disappeared into the kitchen. "I have questions for you!"

"Of course you do, dear, of course you do," she said indulgently, appearing with a glass of water. "I can certainly imagine why you're here. Oh, the suit looks… good on you, I suppose, since you have the benefit of boyish good looks on your side. You do look the proper mafia thug, though I must said you could have chosen a much better cut. The straight cut just makes you look like a little boy wearing his father's clothes. On the other hand, I can't imagine you wearing those skinny-cut suits that are so popular these days. Hmm… come to think of it, I am definitely of the opinion that you ethnic outfits looked better. They bring out your natural colouring more."

Frustration and confusion fought their way over Kurapika's mind, a chaos of deep hatred for the Spiders and their allies, the respect and admiration he had for Midoya when she had saved the Hunter Association HQ from Raven, and a mash-up of half-listened fashion advice forced onto him by Neon Nostrad. He had so many things he wanted to say and no idea where to begin. So he decided to go with his primary grudge with this woman. "You lied to me," he snapped sharply.

"About the suit?"

"Forget the stupid suit!" Kurapika shouted, firmer in his declaration now that he had a direction to go in. "You lied about Kuroro Lucifer! About the Spider! Your entire story about… arresting him… was _bullshit_!" Breathing hard, he lifted his chin defiantly and glared at her, half-willing her to deny it so he could continue being outraged by her actions.

Now it was her turn to blink. Frowning, she tapped a finger against her chin as she thought. "Oh yes, I did," she said, her expression brightening up with remembrance. "Oh, of course! It was the day we fought that poor man with the strange… something about explosives at any rate… oh, what was his name again? Some kind of bird… Magpie? Bluebird? _Passer domesticus_? Something of that sort. Anyway, you know who I mean. Yes, of course I lied about Kuroro and the Spider."

Desire thwarted, Kurapika could only stare in disbelief at her, his face flushing with rage. "Aren't you feeling the least bit guilty about it?" he demanded furiously. "You _lied_ to me. You misled me. You made me think you are _better_ than you truly are. Don't you feel just the slightest bit bad about it?"

"What a question." Her head tilted at him. "No dear, I don't." She smiled disarmingly. "It was necessary of course. You can understand why I wouldn't want to tell the boy who managed to kill one of the infamous Ryodan members that I'm dating their Dancho. That would just be putting my own life in danger, which is plain silly. Which idiot would tell the truth in a situation like that?"

"Th…" Kurapika's voice died off in his throat as he struggled not to scream at her. "That is…"

"Entirely rational," she pointed out, eyebrow raised, as she sipped water from a glass of her own. "Don't be unreasonable, dear. It's unbecoming of you. You do have such a smart and logical brain after all. But enough about the past; it's all so boring, the past. Anything that can't be changed tends to be so. Why are you here now? From your greeting, I assume this isn't a social visit. Well, if you had been someone else, I would have assumed it was, but since it is you, I presume asking me to strip has very little to do with how much you have missed me."

"No. It's not…" Kurapika shook his head, shoving his frustration and anger at her aside. "Like I said, I have questions for you."

She smiled. "Go ahead."

"Tell me about Kuroro Lucifer and the Spider," Kurapika said fiercely. "Tell me all their secrets, all their powers."

Her lips pursed. "And why would I do that?" she asked, bemused. "You know how I stand with Kuroro now."

"So I can kill them," Kurapika told her bluntly. "And don't bother pretending. I know you broke up with him; I heard stories that you betrayed them, sold them out to the mafia. Why, I do not know. What I do know is this: they're going to come for you, and their revenge wouldn't be pretty. You've seen it; you've seen what they did to the auctions the last time they were in town. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain if I kill them before they come for you. It is to your advantage to let me know everything you know about them."

"Oh." Her eyes regarded him, and there was a strange look on her face that Kurapika didn't like. Her phone rang. She picked it up and glanced at it, but Kurapika refused to let her distract him.

"Tell me," he said insistently, leaning towards her, forcing her to look at him instead of her phone. "Tell me. Midoya. Tell me. Please. If there's still anything good left in your soul. Tell me"

Her face was still, but he thought he saw the briefest flicker of hesitation in her eyes so he reached over and grabbed her hand roughly.

"Tell me," he half-pleaded. "You owe it to me. Please."

"Kurapika," she said finally. "Putting your question aside first, there is something that I should probably tell you. Damn my new policy of honest dishonesty."

"What?" Kurapika asked, his nerves thrumming with tension. "What is it?"

"Well, that I am…" she started to say. "How should I put it?"

His nerve broke. "Damn it! Just tell me!" he shouted, leaping to his feet agitatedly.

And at that exact same moment, Kuroro Lucifer walked in through the window wearing a pink, frilly apron.

* * *

Explosions are fun. Killing people is fun. Rampaging through black market auctions is _very_ fun. Kuroro Lucifer knew all that because he did those and more on a monthly basis (sometimes weekly if he was bored). Even after years of scheming devious, intricate plans or simply blowing things up, he was still very much attracted to his career choice. That being said, Kuroro was still pleased to know that his childhood hobby of shoplifting hadn't lost its thrill for him.

Striding down the aisles of the upscale grocery Midoya normally shopped at and slipping whatever he wanted into Fun Fun Cloth was surprisingly pleasant. Not, perhaps, in the same way as successfully killing the Ten Godfathers. It was more the pleasure of a daily ritual than anything else.

Besides, when you don't have to think about cost, shopping is downright enjoyable.

After stealing enough food to last them the entire day, Kuroro made sure to semi-flirt with the shop-owner (so she wouldn't kick him out even though he always appeared to buy nothing from her shop) and then left for Midoya's new penthouse.

Upon arriving there, he wasn't surprised to find she wasn't in. He was aware that she knew how long he would take to get the ingredients for breakfast and thus would have probably set off to do something else that required her attention. That, given her phone call to him about her inability to _not_ buy books just because they have a pretty cover or a different editor, was most likely her old penthouse, where she was, in all probability, at the present, trying to sort out the logistics of moving over.

Well, no matter; it would probably take him some time close to half an hour to prepare the ingredients and another half an hour to actually bake the thing. He could just call her once he was done. With that thought in mind, Kuroro then settled down to actually making the pie.

As he started preparing the chicken, it occurred to him that at the moment, he only had one set of clothes (the ones he was wearing) and that baking a pie is a messy job. Rooting around in the kitchen cabinets produced a pink apron covered in white frills, frolicking cartoon puppies and bright yellow flowers. As he stared into the distance, trying and failing to envision Midoya in it, it occurred to him that the apron was new, unworn but not newly bought. In fact, judging from the receipt still stuffed in its packaging, she had bought it months ago, way before they had broken up and when he was still the primary user of her kitchen. Ergo, she had bought apron for him. And then she had made it a point to bring it over to her new penthouse from her old one because she _knew_ he would eventually ask to use her kitchen.

Rolling his eyes at her incomprehensible sense of humour, Kuroro unabashedly donned the silly thing and set about making breakfast. It wasn't like anyone here hadn't seen him in a worse state before. Besides, he wasn't the slightest bit insecure in his masculinity at all. Being able to bash in a world champion heavy-weight boxer's skull with one's aura does a lot for one's self-confidence.

So, half an hour later found Kuroro standing in Midoya's kitchen in aforementioned apron, with flour on his fingers and cheeks, and a satisfied look on his face. The pie was now sitting in the oven and they still had forty minutes to wait – enough for another round of morning sex. Flipping open his phone, he dialled Midoya's number and waited. To his surprise, she didn't pick up. There couldn't be anything _that_ distracting in her flat that she would ignore his call. Moreover, she was one of the most talented multi-tasker Kuroro had ever met. It didn't make sense that she wouldn't be able to reorganise her books, catalogue her furniture, paint her nails and talk to him on the phone at the same time.

With no small degree of discomfort, Kuroro remembered that the last time he hadn't been able to reach Midoya immediately was when she was avoiding him. But that shouldn't be the case now. All misunderstandings have been cleared, all doubts put to rest, and Kuroro knew Midoya wasn't the kind to leave people hanging. If she was leaving him again, she would have told him. Something else was distracting her then.

No matter. Her old penthouse was just in the next wing. It would only take him a few seconds to pop by and get her. Easy.

At least that was what he thought until he climbed in through the window and found the chain-user sitting on _his couch_.

For a moment, the two of them stared in utter disbelief at each other across the span of Midoya's penthouse. The exact same questions flittered across their minds at the exact same instance: What is he doing here? How did he get here? Why he is wearing _that_?

Then, they decided at the exact same instance that these questions were really not that important. The both of them leapt into action, Kuroro whipping out his book and Kurapika summoning his chains.

"Spider!" the young blonde swore, his eyes visibly blazing red even behind his dark contacts.

"Chain-user," Kuroro replied coldly, his eyes narrowed.

The chain-user snarled a wordless sound of pure fury and leapt off the couch, drawing his arm back to whip the chain around Kuroro. At the same instance, Kuroro materialised his poisonous katana and took two quick steps forward, ready to dodge under the chain and make the bastard rot.

Midoya unexpectedly appeared between the two of them, her Nen just a thin barrier of calmness against her skin. "Stop," she said calmly, and the pure authority in her voice made the both of them jerk back like dogs on a leash.

"What is he doing here?" the both of them shouted at the same time and Midoya sighed.

"I can explain, but first, _hush_," she said gently and Kuroro saw the chain-user's mouth clamp shut around what would have been a spew of angry and probably rude words – that uncultured bastard. "Kurapika, what I was trying to tell you before this was that Kuroro and I have just gotten back together… less than twelve hours ago, and since he is my lover again, I would appreciate you not using your chain on him. It was a real trial getting rid of it the last time. Kuroro, Kurapika is my guest, so put your sword away, please. It's not polite to make my guest's body rot away."

"Why is he your guest?" Kuroro demanded before the chain-user could speak up. "He killed Ubogin and Pakunoda. He's my enemy."

"Well yes…"

"And since I'm your lover, my enemy is your enemy. You're supposed to help me kill him."

"Darling, you know we've never ever had a policy like that between us."

"No better time to start than the present."

"That is impossible. You know that if I treat all your enemies as my enemies, I would have to kill nine out of ten of my business associates. Don't be childish here."

"I'm not being…"

Evidently, the chain-user wasn't used to being ignored, because he interrupted them rudely. "You are back together with him again?" he growled, his voice low and furious. "Are you insane? Have you no taste or decency? That man is a criminal!"

"As am I. Well, sometimes at least," Midoya said patiently. "Please, Kurapika…"

"You are a Blacklist Hunter! You should be arresting him!"

Kuroro looked down his nose at the young man who was shaking with rage. "If you think you can order Midoya about, you are going to be sorely disappointed," he said coldly. "Midoya, isn't he being a little rude for a guest? Don't you feel the slightest urge to end his life? It really wouldn't hurt to kill him or maim him. I can finish him off for you if you prefer it that way."

"Kuroro, please don't make things worse here. I'm…"

"Wouldn't hurt to kill _me_?" the chain-user fixed Kuroro with a red-hot glare. "Well your death will _benefit_ the world, murderer!"

"Kurapika, no name-calling…"

"I would say the same back to you, murderer."

"Oh dear, I should probably just wait in the kitchen until the bloodshed is over."

"I am not a murderer!" Red light flashed through the eyes and Kuroro sneered openly at him.

"You murdered my Spiders, bound them to your will and forced them to betray my Ryodan or die a horrible and gruesome death," he said sharply. "Don't pretend you're superior to me."

"Why you…!"

Violence would have been the consequence of that if Midoya's Nen hadn't flashed like a warning flare. "Hush," Midoya repeated. "The both of you, hush. Now."

"Midoya..." the both of them said at the same time but Midoya held up a hand. There was something in her manner that made Kuroro cease immediately.

"What is it?" Kuroro asked, letting the sword droop slightly. He saw the chain-user shift, probably to take advantage of his lowering of his guard, so he raised the sword again and fixed the younger man with a stern glare. "Midoya?" Slowly, he moved until he was standing next to her. Because she was _his._ Just because she was being nice to the chain-user didn't mean she was on his side.

"Do you feel that?" Midoya asked, her forehead crinkling with concentration. "There's something… odd in this room."

"You mean him?" Kuroro and Kurapika said at the same time then glared at each other.

"Be serious," Midoya scolded, and she didn't sound like she was joking at all. "There's something wrong here. And why does it feel so familiar? It feels almost like…"

But they never found out what she felt, because in the next instant, the entire world turned white and all three of them fell to the ground with heavy thuds. Face down, Kuroro stared at Midoya's floor in shock. What had just happened? For a moment, it had felt like all the energy in his body had been drained out of him, like he had been close to fainting. His mind had blacked out entirely for perhaps all of two seconds, so perhaps he _had_ fainted. But now he felt perfectly fine – not that he trusted himself to know if that was really the case. Over the years, he had grown so accustomed to pain that he didn't always feel it when it's there.

Cautiously, Kuroro lifted his head and looked around. The first thing he noticed was that the chain-user was gone. There were two explanations for that, neither of which Kuroro liked. Either way, there seemed to be no immediate threat, so Kuroro got onto his knees, still looking around warily. To his surprise, a thick, dense fog seemed to have rolled into the penthouse. It wasn't entirely impenetrable. He could see clearly up to ten feet, but anything further than that became increasingly blurry and faded. As far as he could tell, the fog seemed to be genuine, harmless fog, smelling more of damp and mildew than any potentially harmful chemicals. But then how did it get up here in the first place? York Shin was inclined to rain but not fog. Besides, they were fifty stories up. Did fog even go that high? "Midoya, are you seeing what I'm seeing? Something's gone wrong. Did you see what happened?" he asked the pile of black robes on the floor. There was no response. "Midoya?"

Frowning, Kuroro reached over to touch her arm – and grabbed onto an empty sleeve. Startled, he started patting the robe until he felt something warm and soft beneath.

"Midoya," he muttered, shaking her. "Midoya, wake up. What's wrong with you?"

A soft voice murmured something back at him - a voice that didn't sound the slightest bit like Midoya's. It was pitched too high, for one, and the quality was… different. Midoya always sounded confident, poised and articulate. This voice held hesitation and just the slightest edge of uncertainty. "Who is it?' the voice said so softly Kuroro had to strain to hear it (and he had super-sensitive hearing).

"That should be my question," Kuroro replied coldly, gripping what felt like am arm and dragging the person up. "Who the hell are…" The question died on his lips when he found himself holding a little girl, probably only four or five years old, wearing a hospital gown. She was tiny, skinny and as cold as ice.

And she looked exactly like Midoya.

* * *

"_Have you ever seen an MRI scan of the human brain? It's quite unlike actually seeing the brain nestled in an opened skull. The actual brain, the real, physical brain, has such a presence. You look at it and you see it in its singularity. Its 'one-ness' makes it so easy to define: pink, folded, divided into left and right. The brain seen through the machine though is different. All one sees are shapes and colours, darks and lights, patches and spaces – almost as if our skulls are empty places filled with fog." _

–"_The Inaccessible Unconscious" –_

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter so far! As I was writing it, I was painfully aware that I was introducing a lot of clichés into this chapter (a character who turns into a child etc), but I promise that my story will not be clichéd. Double, triple promise. Also, I'm substituting those quotes above for the Trivial section. This is due to the more serious nature of this story. The Trivials started sounding almost frivolous with the story being as serious as it is, so quotes we will have instead.

Please leave a review if you have time! Till next week!


	2. It's just like stepping in dog shit

A/N: Hello, back again with another chapter! Right on time too! Just some notes, in A Series of Beautiful Contradictions, Kuroro says he is 26 and Midoya 25. However, I realised that was a mistake on my part. They should be 24 and 23 then. Hence, I've adjusted their ages in this story.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter too! They're still feeling things out so perhaps not too many exciting things happening just yet. We'll come to it. Soon. And I hadn't had time to properly edit the chapter, so please forgive me if there're mistakes etc in it. I tried my best!

Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter, _Logic of Sense_, and any other books/movies/songs etc referenced in this story (other than _The Inaccessible Unconscious_) do not belong to me.

* * *

It's Just Like Stepping in Dog Shit When You Don't Own a Dog

When you wake up in the morning, there are some things you just don't expect. Climbing out of bed and stepping into dog faeces when you don't own a dog is one. Opening your eyes to see fairies, elves and dwarves dancing on your chest is another. However, Kuroro would have thought it more likely his rest would be disturbed by Tolkien's wet dreams than… _this_.

This was… this was… what was this anyway?

Picking up the child by her wrist, he dangled her in front of him and looked her up and down, taking in the flimsy hospital gown she was wearing before looking up to stare at her face closely. "You're Midoya," he said, and though he had meant it as a question, it came out as a statement, largely because the child _did_ resemble Midoya to a startling degree.

Well, when he said 'resemble', he meant it in very general terms. The child had Midoya's features: the piercing black eyes, pale skin so fair it was translucent, and dark curly hair. But that was where the resemblance stopped. Instead of the long, frizzy hair that Midoya sported, the child's hair was cropped in a pixie cut close to her skull. While Midoya was pleasantly plump, this child was skinny, and not in a way that looked healthy. Kuroro had seen pictures of Holocaust survivors who looked healthier than her with her dark hollows in her cheeks and eyes, and ribs and joints sticking out prominently beneath atrophied muscles. Unlike Midoya who suffered from chronic severe acne, the child's skin was clear, marred only by peeling around the lips and nose, and deep, purple circles under her eyes.

"You're staring," the child noted in a quietly serious way that was entirely unlike Midoya's, except in her more introspective moments.

"Well, yes," Kuroro admitted bemusedly. "That's because you are… Midoya, right?"

"Yes I am."

"Are you _sure_ you are Midoya? Midoya Kito?" Kuroro pressed, just in case. 'Midoya' wasn't exactly a common name, but then who knows?

The child fixed him with a disquietingly unblinking gaze. "Yes, I am sure," she said solemnly. "I am Midoya June Kito."

"Well what happened to your _breasts_?" Kuroro demanded, torn between outrage and distress that one of his favourite parts of her body were now gone.

The child gave him a look filled with suspicion and distrust, but didn't comment on it. Kuroro couldn't help noticing that she hadn't mentioned the fact that he was still dangling her a good foot above the ground and that she seemed entirely way too comfortable with a strange man invading her comfort zone. Those were such… Midoya traits.

"Who are you?" she asked, her eyes searching his face now.

"You don't know?" Kuroro frowned. "You have no idea who I am?"

"I have never met you before," the child informed him. Her eyes slid slowly to the left then to the right. "Where am I? I'm supposed to be in…" She hesitated.

"In the York Shin Mental Asylum?" Kuroro guessed and the child's eyes darted to his before dropping to stare at the floor.

"Yes," she said simply.

Right. Now he had an idea of what was going on. What he had felt just now, what his clever, sensitive Midoya had sensed before he did, was a surge of Nen. Whatever it was, probably a Nen trap of sorts, the target had been Midoya. The Nen had captured her and… somehow turned her back to the time when she was in the asylum, somewhere between the ages of seven and ten. Though she looked younger, he knew for a fact that she had to be slightly older. He, on the other hand, though not a target and thus not shrunk, had been caught on the fringes of the power, which accounted for the backlash. He had no idea what happened to the chain-user but he hoped it had something to do with explosions and tiny pieces of Kuruta flying all over the place. Unlikely, but one can always fantasise. Still, fantasies were for later. Now, he had another problem to deal with.

"You really have no recollection of who I am?" Kuroro asked the child, trying not to feel too frustrated. He had just gotten her back _damn it_.

The child shook her head, her eyes still watching him with that strange blankness that Kuroro normally never associated with Midoya. That woman's eyes were always so full of life and energy and…

"I'm your Kuroro," Kuroro tried. "Don't you remember? I'm your lover, your partner. We've been together for years."

"My what?" The child's eyebrow shot up in a manner that was so much like the Midoya he knew that Kuroro felt a jolt of relief. "I'm too young to have a lover… sir."

"Oh dear lord you called me 'sir'," Kuroro muttered, appalled. "This is unacceptable. You don't call anybody 'sir'. Not even Netero, and you actually respect the man. The only people you call 'sir' are, perversely, the people whom you can walk over freely with no consequences whatsoever."

Now the child (Kuroro could not think of her as 'Midoya') was staring at him with a look that suggested that he probably needed to join her in the mental asylum. Probably as neighbours. They could swap drugs and sleepovers and spend the whole night watching Rorschach tests. "You said your name is…"

"Kuroro Lucifer," Kuroro said hopefully, but her face remained blank. "You have… you don't remember. You have amnesia or… something. Given how young you are now, I'm going with the latter."

"Mr Lucifer…"

"Call me 'Kuroro'. Please. I beg you, and if you actually remember me, you would know that I don't do that lightly. Don't be respectful to me. It's too scary. You're only this respectful when you're about to disembowel me or do something very disturbing to sensitive parts of my body."

"Kuroro then. You must realise I am only eight and a patient at a mental asylum. I understand that sometimes… people have… have preferences for… younger people, but I feel compelled to inform you that this is highly illegal and immoral and that you should seek treatment…"

"I am _not_ a pedophile," Kuroro groaned. "This is too much. My bones are still broken from yesterday and now you're gone again. Keeping you by my side is really almost too much work. Some days, I honestly wish I didn't like you this much." He fixed her with an intense gaze. "Midoya, when I first met you, you were twenty-three. You're head of the Kito family and a blacklist Hunter. Does that not ring any bells?"

The child's head tilted curiously at him. "I am eight," she said calmly as if that was an indisputable fact, as sure as the earth goes around the sun.

"No, you're not," Kuroro said stubbornly. "We had a Nen attack just now…"

"What's 'Nen'?"

"What's _Nen_?" By this point, Kuroro was ready to just climb back into bed and pretend this was all a bad dream. "Alright, you obviously have no memory beyond your age," Kuroro muttered. "Okay, Midoya, now I want you to listen to me with an open-mind. What I am going to tell you is going to sound incredible, but it is, I swear on my life, definitely the truth." He then proceeded to outline his history of her. It was far more difficult than he thought it would be since she had no idea what Nen, Genei Ryodan or Hunter Association meant.

Somehow, he managed to produce a semi-coherent narrative which produced another curious head tilt from her. "You say that I am currently twenty-six years old," she stated solemnly. "And that you are my lover, age twenty-seven. You claim that there is this strange superpower in this world known as 'Nen' and that we are both masters of it. You also say I am currently head of the Kito family. I hope you understand that given the state I am in, I find that very hard to believe."

"It's the truth," Kuroro said firmly. "Something has happened to you that have reduced you back to your childhood. If not, how do you explain what you're doing here?"

Another head tilt to the other side. If Kuroro wasn't so upset about his Midoya being reduced to a state which was entirely _not_ sexually appealing, he would have admitted that the gesture was freakishly cute. "You kidnapped me," the child suggested, which, Kuroro had do admit, was an entirely logical and reasonable assumption to make.

Doesn't mean she wasn't wrong and that Kuroro was going to let her continue being _wrong_. "Do you have any memory of being kidnapped?"

"No, but I'm…" the child's eyes slid away from his, "I'm not always…"

"You were drugged ninety percent of the time; I know, you told me," Kuroro said impatiently. "Come on, this is your own body we're talking about. You should know if it feels off. Do you feel drugged in anyway whatsoever?"

The child hesitated but didn't reply. "What else did I tell you?" she asked instead as her eyes returned to his. "If you are truly my lover, you must know things about me that others wouldn't."

"Ah… well…" Kuroro hesitated. "That's a problem. I know very little about your early life since you hardly ever talk about it. Most of the things I know about you are from your current… oh, stop looking at me like that. I swear I am not a paedophile so stop _judging me_."

"So you don't have a criminal record?" the child asked with a sharpness that was more like the Midoya he knew.

"Well… I do… But it is not what you think. I already told you; I am Dancho of the Genei Ryodan, a Class A criminal group. We rob and murder people. I definitely have criminal records for crimes against humanity, robbery, murder, genocide, that kind of thing. But definitely no sex crimes."

"So you're saying my adult self is dating a murderer and thief?" the child's tone gained an edge. "I'm not so sure I like my adult-self very much."

"Well I like your adult-self a lot more than I like you, you obnoxious little…," Kuroro muttered. "Alright, let me see if I can remember things about your childhood. Your father is called Mahou and your mother is Miharu. You have an aunt named Annabella Dunstan, who is your mother's sister… among other things, and you have a cousin, among so many other things, named Armando Basilio." The child's eyes darkened at the mention of that name but he continued. "You're the only child of the Kito family, the only direct descendant I mean. You're a super-genius. By the time you were nine, you were doing quantum physics and… oh wait, you aren't nine yet. Um… the heirloom of the Kito family is the Infinity Gem. It was lost sometime while you were in the asylum, I'm not sure if it has happened to you yet. I must add that you found it recently, by the way. As in recently… for your adult self. You also have a cousin named Clemence Priduex."

"This is general knowledge, Kuroro. What…"

"You killed your father."

The child's eyes widened and Kuroro could see how blood-shot and yellow the whites of her eyes were. "I what?" she asked faintly. "What did you say?"

"And your mother," Kuroro continued. "They died when you're ten, but knowing you, I bet you've already started planning their deaths."

The child's face had gone deadly white. Kuroro wasn't sure if it was fear or anxiety he was seeing on her face, but he knew it disturbed _him_. He had never seen Midoya look frightened before. She was too powerful and proud for that. "What else… do you know?" she asked, and her voice trembled with the question.

"That you can use _Gyo_," Kuroro said. "The… what did you call it? Ah yes, the 'glow'. The bright outline of light around people and things that you see? That's Nen. The technique you are using to see it is called _Gyo_."

At his words, the child's head jerked back violently as if he had slapped her. "That's not funny," she said, and Kuroro heard real anger in her voice.

"I'm not joking," he told her. "I know you were told it's a symptom of some kind of… mental disorder or something, but it's not. I can see it too, the glow. It's just Nen. Everyone has it, but not everyone can see it."

Now her lips were trembling. She was clenching her jaw so hard he could see the muscles working in her neck. "You're lying," she said finally, her voice weak and confused. "You must be."

"I'm not. Do I look like a liar to you?"

She lowered her head, avoiding his eyes.

"Midoya. Look at me."

She shook her head.

"Midoya."

This time, she lifted her head slightly, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. Good lord, she was crying. Kuroro had only seen Midoya cry once in his life, but it was enough to let him know how bloody_ awkward_ it was trying to comfort her. She was too proud for that. Now that she was this… vulnerable little thing, it made things worse. What was he supposed to do now? What did people do to babies who cry? Leave them in the sun to die from exposure? That's what he would have done if this wasn't his lover he was talking about. And could anything sound more wrong than that? Well, only one thing to do. He went with what he knew would work on his Midoya.

"Midoya, you are more powerful than you know," he told her. "This… condition that has haunted you… you turned it into one of your greatest strengths. You mastered Nen, Midoya. You learned how to control it, to turn it on and off as you needed it. You are one of the most powerful and feared blacklist hunters in the world _because_ of your innate talent with Nen. Believe me; you have absolutely nothing to fear. You are an apex predator at the top of the food chain and all those people who seem so big and powerful now are but pitiful, weak prey before you."

The child looked up at him from under her lashes with a look on her face that he could not decipher. "I wonder if I should believe you," she said. "What you say is too alluring for me to believe. Yet I want to."

"Then believe me." Kuroro smiled faintly. "Let's go about returning you to adult-hood, shall we?"

She hesitated, but only a second longer. "Alright," she agreed, her face blank and serious again. "There's not much for me to do anyway, as a child in a… an asylum." Her eyes slid away from his again in a manner that suggested social awkwardness and a great deal of insecurity. "Where are we? You didn't tell me."

"Your penthouse," Kuroro said, standing up. "It's where you live when you're being a Blacklist Hunter. You're still living at the Kito mansion too, if you want to know, but you only go there when you're being June Kito. Your ability to compartmentalise your life has never failed to astound me."

"Okay." The speed at which she accepted what must be an incredibly bizarre explanation was just Midoya-ish enough that Kuroro almost sighed in relief. She looked around furtively, eyes gliding over the empty furniture and pile of books spilling out of the bedroom. "Why is it so foggy?"

"I don't know. It's not usually…" Kuroro paused, bringing his hand to his mouth. "Good question. Very good question, in fact. Your ability to see straight to the most important issue at hand is obviously innate. I didn't think about it before since I was too busy trying to figure out what had happened to you. But this fog… yes, I think I can hazard a guess. I don't think we're in your penthouse anymore."

"We're not?" The child had stood up by now, standing shakily on skeleton-thin legs and looking for all the world like a new-born gazelle who had exactly three seconds since exiting the womb to learn how to run or be torn apart by the lions closing in on the horizon. "Where are we then?"

Kuroro walked over to the window and looked out. The view was the exact same one he had seen a million times before, sleeping on Midoya's couch. Yet, it was also so different. Gone were the neon lights of the world's greatest city of sin. Instead, the buildings looked grey and dull, as if all life had been drained of them. The heavy fog added to that impression, turning everything beyond a certain distance into a blurred outline, almost as if the world beyond that point had ceased to exist. "Perhaps, we're in an alternate reality." He shrugged. "The Nen attack or trap could have dragged us into another world."

"Okay," the child said, accepting his explanation again without even asking whether it is possible for alternate realities to exist, how anyone could access them if they did, and which pitiful reality was filled with nothing but fog. "What then?" she asked instead.

"Then it's easy," Kuroro said happily. "Chances are, your change isn't permanent. We just need to find a way back to our world and you'll be back to normal again." Another thought struck him and he frowned. "There is a problem though. Right before we were dragged into this place, we were facing off with an enemy." Not really the truth, but whatever. Adults lie to children all the time and who was Kuroro to break that millennia-long tradition? "That he isn't here with us means… he wasn't affected by the trap so he's still in our world, in your apartment. I'm really not comfortable with him having free reign of that place. Your journal is in there and I have no idea what kind of secrets you write in it."

"Is he the one who brought us here?" the child asked with that freakishly adorable head tilt again.

"No. I don't think he has powers that allow him to do that." Kuroro thought some more as he patted her head absent-mindedly. "Besides, it's not like we can do anything about it if he does decide to poke around your apartment anyway. No use worrying about it."

"I'm still worrying about it," the child mumbled.

"So, what do you…" Kuroro stopped, finishing the rest of the question in his mind. He was too used to asking Midoya for her opinion; she tended to have the most marvellous insight and the most devious schemes after all. Given the state she was in though, she was now entirely reliant on him in more ways than one. Not only did she not know Nen, she did not have the mental and physical capabilities of his Midoya. She was Midoya before she became Midoya, and a pathetically, absolutely helpless little thing at that. Right, so no marvellously complex schemes today. "Let's take a walk," he finally said.

"Walk?"

"Outside." Kuroro gestured at the window. "Whoever created this world made it this way for a reason. Only way to find out what is to go out and have a look around."

"Outside. You mean outside the window?"

"Well, yes of course I meant outside the…" Kuroro stopped himself and glanced at the child staring at him in disbelief. "This is going to take getting used to," he muttered. "I always use the window to enter and leave your apartment. It's just more convenient than going through Julius, who always insists on checking with you if it's okay if I go up. And sometimes you're in the bathroom or sleeping or just not in. Then I end up having to sit around waiting for you to turn up, which is just annoying."

"Ah. So you climb the side of the building and break into my apartment instead?"

"It's easier. No, I'm not lying, so you don't have to look at me like that. You really need a better poker face, dear. Learn from my Midoya. She has the best poker face I've ever seen."

"Are you sure I'm dating you?" she demanded in a voice that was surprisingly strong for such a fragile-looking thing. "I assure you that I have a very low opinion of my adult-self now."

"Don't insult my lover even if you are my lover," Kuroro sighed. "I'm feeling terribly confused now. Shall we just get on with it so I can get my Midoya back? You have no idea how disturbing it is to find the body I've been having sex with now reduced to a seven year old's."

The look she gave him was as sharp and as wry as any Midoya could give, or would be if it wasn't blunted by apprehension and wariness. "And I assure you I am not the slightest bit traumatised to discover that I've been having sexual relations with a man twice my age," she replied.

"You weren't…"

"How are we going out the window?" she demanded, pushing forward with an immature aggressiveness that he had never seen Midoya display before. In her defence, it felt forced and was probably brought on by nerves. But then, Midoya never got nervous. Why would she be nervous since she's little-Midoya, which is just a tinier version of Midoya? Kuroro had never realised how much two decades can change a person. "Are you a mountain-climber on top of being a serial killer?"

"I'm not a… oh never mind." Without warning, Kuroro leaned over and picked little-Midoya off her feet. She tensed in his arms immediately though she tried to hide it. Ignoring her increase in heart rate, he strode over to the window and looked down. Normally, the road would have been visible to him even from this height. With the fog, he couldn't even see if the ground existed anymore. "This might hurt," he told the child, but she simply turned her head away from him. Then when he finally leapt out of the window, she gave up altogether and shrieked breathlessly in his ear as she clung to the fur of his coat. And Kuroro knew just how pissed she was when she yanked his hair violently once they were safe on the ground. Then she apologised with a look on her face that said she thought he was going to hit her.

At least his brave, tough Midoya was still somewhere inside that emaciated frame, Kuroro thought in an attempt to comfort himself as he tried to reassure her that he wasn't going to hit her. Somewhere deep… _deep_ inside.

* * *

_A hard male body lay above hers, naked, flesh gleaming with perspiration as it moved against her. She could feel damp skin rubbing against her bare skin, could feel large, rough hands gripping her hips. Deep but calm breathing ghosted over her skin, hinting at barely kept together restraint._

_It wasn't an unfamiliar sensation. It was even pleasant enough. His hands were gripping her, hard enough to bruise but gentle enough that it felt like he was massaging her hips. When his hips met hers, there was no violence to it, no possessiveness and dominance. It was firm, yes, but smooth – pleasant. Almost enjoyable. _

_She realised her arms were wrapped around this man, going under his arms, which were placed at her sides, and curling around his back. Her arms felt different. They felt… strong, powerful. If she wanted to, if she squeezed hard, she could snap his back in half. That knowledge astounded her. _

"_Midoya," he whispered against her neck and she turned her head slightly. His face was buried against her neck so she couldn't see how he looked like. All she could see was short hair, ruffled and wet with perspiration. "Midoya," he repeated. "Midoya. Midoya." Her name was an incantation spilling rhythmically from his lips. There was no aggression in his voice, no desire to control, to dominate; there was just pleasure, agonising pleasure that drove her name from his lips. _

_Out of curiosity, she dug her nails into the muscular back, and dragged them down. Hard enough to break skin, but not enough to draw blood. _

_His voice caught in mid-groan and he started to move faster. "Evil woman," he gasped, in his voice turning rough and hoarse. "Oh, you evil woman. Have you thought about my question?" _

"_What question?" she asked, and was startled by how different her voice sounded. It was slightly deeper, rounded and full, and… confident. It sounded like power and control, authority and pride, confidence and self-assuredness. It was nothing like her voice. _

"_About the question of the virtual," he breathed, his face going into her hair which was long and dark and curly. "About… why people fear it so much." _

"_Ah." The words came out of her mouth though she had no idea what he meant. "I think people fear it because they want to believe the real is verifiable. But they forget that the real is not always actual, that the real can be as intangible as the virtual. And so you cannot always verify it, not when you can't see it, or touch it. Like love. Like lust." Her hips thrust against him on their own accord and the man above her sucked in a sharp breath. _

"_Very good," he whispered, frantically, dazedly. "Very good, Midoya. I like it. I like that explanation a lot. I…" He continued to speak, but she knew he wasn't talking to her anymore. His voice was distant and desperate, the words gushing from him like a river. He was not holding a conversation; he was lost in his own pleasure, drinking it in as he moved faster and faster until he gave a strangled gasp against her skin. _

_As he lay above her, breathing deeply but regularly, she murmured, "Good?" _

"_Very good," he whispered and he lifted his head to look at her. His eyes, somehow luminous in the dim light, fixed onto hers. "Do you remember me now, Midoya?" _

_Midoya shook her head. "No," she said. "I've never met you before." _

_Somehow, though his expression did not change, those molten eyes looked sad. "Try," he whispered. "Try to remember me. Try to remember what we had." _

"_Alright," she agreed. _

Then she woke up.

The warmth and damp wrapped around her didn't disappear with the fleeting dream. If anything, they were even more intense, draped around her like a heavy, wet rug. It was suffocating, yet strangely comfortable at the same time.

Briefly, she remained still with her eyes closed as the world rocked her gently. Strong, solid arms cradled her easily. Something furry brushed against her face, tickling her nose. She was being carried by… him. The man she had just met. The stranger with the emotionless black eyes.

After they had left that building by jumping out of the window, he had put her on the ground and allowed her to walk by herself. They had travelled through York Shin as she had never seen it before; York Shin with massive, gleaming metal skyscrapers covered with deep, dense fog. They had walked for a while – then she had fainted. At least she assumed that was what happened since she had no recollection of falling asleep.

"You fainted," a smooth, smoky voice said and she opened her eyes to see the man known as Kuroro Lucifer looking down at her. "I'm no doctor so I will not bother to speculate why. Feeling better now?"

"I suppose," Midoya replied sluggishly. She was, she realised, curled up in his arms with the flaps of his coat tucked around her. The warmth she was feeling was his body heat. And the damp was… "It's so foggy," she murmured, looking around. While she had slept, the fog seemed to have closed in upon them. Now, they could barely see two feet in front of them.

"I know," Kuroro said. "It's highly inconvenient if we can't see where we're going. Normally I would ask you to lead in this situation, since you have a photographic memory of the streets of York Shin." He looked down at her with those blank, black eyes. "Do you still have it? The map of York Shin in your head? It would be incredibly useful now."

Midoya met his eyes and couldn't help wondering why she had fallen for this man. His expression was so… well, non-existent. There was barely any emotion in that face at all. It was all in his voice and even then, it was muted. Well, that was assuming she _had_ fallen for this man. For all she knew, what he had told her was an elaborate story with the intention of… well, she had no idea what he could accomplish by lying to her. That certainly didn't mean he was telling the truth though. "What is the last place you remember passing?" she asked hoarsely.

"The Bank of Stephanus," he told her. "That's the last thing I saw before the fog closed in around us."

"I don't know where that is," she replied. "Any other landmarks?"

"The Sundae Place was right next to the Bank." He gave her a mildly exasperated look. "You like the sundaes there. Especially the one with rainbow sprinkles."

"Oh. Yes, I do. I've quite forgotten about them." Midoya closed her eyes in thought. "That's near Sixth Street."

"Yes." The man's eyes were distant. "We proceeded straight down past the Sundae Place for about twenty minutes."

"Seventh Street," Midoya told him. "We're nearing the central square." She paused. "I've never heard of a Bank of Stephanus before."

"How could you not? It was established ten years… oh." He smiled at her, that faint smile that was more a quirk of the corners of the lips than anything else. "Your map of York Shin is probably a little dated. No matter. I've gotten my bearings. Once we hit the central square, I'll have a better idea of where we are."

"Mmm." Midoya continued to stare up at the face floating above hers. He was an extraordinarily good-looking man, not, perhaps, conventionally so, but more in the gothic fashion (or perhaps 'gothic' was mainstream now; how would she know anyway what with being stuck in a mental asylum and all that). His skin was pale, like hers, and his hair and eyes black, like hers. His eyes were large, pretty and cold as ice, and he had a straight, aquiline nose and full lips. He was also, he claimed, a mass murderer. Who could have told with a face like that? "Am I pretty?" she asked impulsively. "As an adult, I mean."

He blinked down at her. "You've never asked me that question before, even as an adult," he said, looking somewhat confused. "There's no point to it and you are fully aware of that. After all, you have no illusions about the fact that you are an ugly woman, Midoya."

Now it was her turn to blink at him. "I am?" she asked. "I do not grow up to be pretty?" She tried to decide if that bothered her. Then she tried to decide whether she should even bother to try to decide if she was bothered. In the end, she gave up and just commented, "Mother is pretty."

"I can't judge since she's been dead for years by the time I met you." He glanced down at her. "And no, you don't grow up to be pretty. You developed acne, your hair got incredibly frizzy, you have fine lines around your eyes, you are overweight and your lips have a tendency to peel. About the only time you look pleasant on the eyes is when you're wearing a lot of makeup. And even then, your choice of eye shadow colours is always appalling. I'll admit you wear them well, but seriously, orange on your skin tone? Purple or blue would suit you much better."

"Oh." Midoya thought about that and decided that if she ever took to wearing eye shadow in the future, she was going to wear orange and she was going to look downright pretty doing it. "Then why do you like me? If I'm not pretty, I mean."

"That's easy, dear. You are smart," the man said, barely paying attention to her as he looked around. "You are very smart in a way that few can match. And you are very fun to be with. When presented with a dangerous situation, you walk right in with your head held high, a smile on your face and twenty-six different schemes brewing in your mind. You are also very strong; much stronger than most people ever realise. My dear, you are a powerful warrior and a brilliant tactician, and you have the character of titanium, strong, unbending, unbreakable titanium. Netero once said you could rule the world if you wanted to, and I believe him." He paused. "Netero is your sensei. He's the one who taught you Nen. He's dead."

"Did I kill him?" she asked, since according to him, she seemed to do that very often.

The man's lips quirked again. "No," he told her. "You didn't. You loved him. You cried like a baby when he died." Another pause. "He tried to kill you after he was dead and he succeeded even from beyond the grave, which probably proves what a brilliant schemer he was. But he underestimated you. You came right back, because like I said, you have twenty-six schemes in your mind, and one of them involved rising from the dead."

"What? I came back from the dead?" Now Midoya's image of her adult-self included black stitches along bloodless wounds and her walking around moaning about brains. She didn't even like brains. They tasted like chicken-flavoured jelly which is just disgusting. "How on earth did I do that?"

"You built a mini-defibrillator in your brain," the man said casually, as if that was the most normal thing in the world.

"Oh." Midoya blinked. "A mini-defibrillator? That is…" She could only call a spade a spade "really cool. Really, really cool. I think I might like my adult self."

He laughed. To be specific, he gave a brief, low chuckle, which, Midoya realised, would be a full-blown, uncontrollable guffaw in another person. "You would like your adult self," he told her. "I certainly do."

Midoya didn't reply as she sank deeper into his arms, drawing the flaps of his coat closer around her. It was tempting to believe him; tempting to believe she wouldn't die in the asylum, alone and half-crazy, that she would grow up, to become the lover he spoke so admiringly of, to become a powerful Hunter and honourary mafia (what did that mean anyway; that people would only stab her in the back if she wasn't wearing a proper mafia suit that day?). It was tempting and that was why she didn't fully believe him. The best traps are the honey traps after all, the ones that make you believe your life isn't as messed up as it really is.

"Do I have more friends?" she wondered out loud. "Other than you, I mean."

"You have an apprentice," he told her. "Pepeka Timbal. He's madly in love with you but you treat him like your child. He's…" the man cringed "I'll admit he's a good man, but honestly, he has the straightest, truest moral compass I've ever seen. It's bloody annoying." He smiled at her. "And you have other friends. I believe you count Ging and Pariston as friends, though I verily believe you will castrate me if you knew who I was talking about. To be more accurate, you're frenemies, isn't it? That's the slang nowadays at least, according to Shalnark, my resident geek."

"Frenemies? What does that mean? It isn't even a proper word," Midoya protested and he chuckled again.

"True." He stopped suddenly and lowered her to the ground. "You need to be able to walk on your own."

"Why?" Midoya asked, as she cautiously lowered her bare feet to the ground, her hands still clinging to his arms feebly.

"Hear that?" the man lifted a finger. She shook her head and he frowned in a way that she had come to realise meant he was comparing her with her adult-self. "Growls. Sniffing. There's some kind of creature ahead. I will need to be able to fight it, and I can't do that if I have to carry you at the same time. You need to learn how to walk on your own."

"Okay," Midoya said because that made perfect sense to her even if it kind of somewhat scared her. She didn't trust this man fully but being in his arms made her feel infinitely safer than standing on the ground by herself. With how thick the fog was, she was afraid she would lose him and then she would be on her own in this large, strange world.

"Stay close to me," he said quietly. "But if I tell you to run, run."

"How will you be able to find me in this fog after?" she asked with what she felt was quite a great deal of reason.

"I'll be able to," he assured her. "I can see your Nen quite clearly, even in the fog."

"Okay," she agreed because she was half-afraid of getting him angry. She had a feeling he was the kind of person who was slow to anger, but when he did… well, she didn't think he would be a very nice person at all.

And then she didn't have time to think anymore because he was walking forward. Stumbling, Midoya tried to catch up with him, clutching his coat fiercely. His gait was fast and her legs were still wobbly, so she had to practically run to keep up with him. He slowed a little when he realised that, but didn't stop walking. She was starting to get the nagging feeling that this was a man who did not care much for weaknesses.

For what felt like an eternity, Midoya scampered after him, making sure to keep a good hold of his coat even if it meant that she fell constantly when he picked up his pace and scraped her knees. The cuts stung, but she had felt much worse than that. Besides, she was fully aware that there were worse things in the world than pain.

Abruptly, a low growl, deep and menacing, rumbled through the air. Midoya froze and it was a good thing the man stopped when he did or she would have been dragged off her feet again. "I hear that," she said very softly.

She felt his hand grip hers, and at first, she thought he was trying to comfort her. Then she realised he was trying to pry her fingers off his coat. "Let go," he said quietly. "I can see it. It looks like a big… dog. I'm going to engage it and I need you to stay here."

Midoya opened her mouth to protest but found her words dying in her mouth. "Okay," she said, and reluctantly let go of his coat. Could she really trust this man to protect her? On what basis would she do so? Was there any other option at all?

While she was still puzzling about it, Kuroro had already strode into the fog and vanished from sight. Blood pounding through her veins, she crouched down, becoming unnaturally still in the dim, foggy streets of York Shin. She couldn't hear anything, not Kuroro or the creature, and she couldn't see anything. It was a horrible situation to be in, but for some reason, Midoya felt like giggling. Amidst the terror running icy cold through her veins, she felt like _bloody giggling_. There was obviously something wrong with her, something…

An unearthly scream filled the air and the desire to giggle vanished immediately. Midoya curled up more into herself, absolutely still except for her eyes, which darted around, trying to spot the danger. Another scream, but this one didn't stop. It echoed through the fog, wailing like a siren broadcasting straight from Hell. She tried to figure out where it was coming from and failed. In this fog, sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Then through the fog, her eyes picked up a shape advancing towards her. It was dark and tall, and she couldn't see who or what it was. "Kuroro?" she questioned tentatively even as she knew it wasn't him. The glow around this thing, visible even through the fog, wasn't Kuroro's. Kuroro's was blue, calm and confident, and as steady as a rock. This glow was bright red, spiking and vibrating with rage and wrath.

Slowly, Midoya got to her feet and started to move backwards, but the dark shape continued to advance on her. As it got closer, she saw that it was walking unsteadily, writing and wriggling as if in agony.

"Kuroro," she said louder, no longer calling out to him but calling for him. "Kuroro."

Then the shape broke through the fog and Midoya's eyes widened. A massive creature stood before her, at least eight feet tall with the body and legs of a diseased, mangy dog - and the torso and face of Armando Basilio.

"Kuroro!" she shouted as the creature advanced on her, the torso writhing and shaking. Its skin was shredded, ripped right open in places, and it had large, gaping wounds that were filled with blood and pus. Spittle and blood dripped down torn lips and dyed shattered fangs a wet red. "Kuroro!"

The bright, green eyes of Armando Basilio fixed onto her and he screamed.

With a loud gasp, Midoya rolled to the side, just as the horrible creature pounced on the spot she had been on. Without bothering to stop and stare, she scrambled to her feet and ran in the direction Kuroro had disappeared in. Behind her, she heard the creature coming after her, screaming a wordless, violent scream of rage and death.

Midoya wanted to shout for Kuroro again, but she couldn't draw enough breath to. Already, she could feel the strength draining out of her limbs so unused to physical activity. But she forced herself on. The conversation with Kuroro floated back to her, and she remembered what he had said about her and titanium. At the moment, she felt more like cotton candy than tough metal alloys. Humans were such delicate, fragile things, filled to the brim with soft, mushy bits. Which bits would this creature eat, she wondered almost hysterically as she ran, and which would it leave scattered across the streets like road-kill?

Abruptly, a second dark shape burst out of the fog in front of her and Midoya cried out.

Kuroro, his face and hands splattered with blood, coolly snapped, "Get down." She dropped immediately to the ground, covering her head in a futile attempt to fend off claws and fangs. There was a flash of something hot and bright above her, and the creature was cut off in mid-scream. Behind her, far too close behind her, something hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Slowly, Midoya lifted her head and glanced back. The fog seemed to have cleared a little, such that she could see up to ten feet again. The creature lay right behind her, shaking and rolling in its death throes. Calmly, almost nonchalantly, Kuroro walked up to it and crushed its head. That stilled it right away.

"Are you alright?" he asked, offering her a bloody hand.

Midoya gripped the offered limb with a strength that surprised her. "Perfectly fine," she said, and felt a jab of pride that her voice barely shook. His eyebrow went up at that and a true smile spread across his face. For some reason, that discomforted her so she gruffly demanded, "What took you so long?"

"There was another one of these back there. I was fighting it," he explained, lifting her to her feet and dusting down her hospital gown. He peered at the scratches on her knees and hands intently then pulled out a handkerchief and started dabbing at them.

"Oh." Midoya glanced at the creature behind her again. "Why… why does it look like Armando?" she asked hesitantly. "Is it Armando… is it really Armando that turned into that?"

Kuroro shook his head. "No, the creature I fought looked like Basilio too," he told her. "I don't think those are the real Armando Basilio. I think they might be… well, if we are really in an alternate reality, in all possibility, they are the denizens of this place."

Midoya frowned. "Why would the denizens of an alternate reality resemble Armando?" she asked.

"Another excellent question. You do have a knack for this, my precious little genius," Kuroro murmured, and she heard fondness in his voice. "Unfortunately, we can't answer them yet. There isn't enough information. But, there is one way to find out."

"How?" Midoya asked.

"Whoever it was that dragged us here did so for a very specific purpose," Kuroro told her as he finished wiping down her wounds. "If we examine it properly, we should be able to figure out what that purpose is. And once we do, we can figure out who is behind this."

"So we're going to walk around aimlessly?" Midoya asked. "I understand I'm not the criminal mastermind here and that I'm only eight, but even to me, that sounds pretty… silly. You know. Just saying."

Kuroro gave her an odd look. "If you think I'm being silly, just say so," he told her. "You're my lover, my partner. We've always been blunt with each other." He shook his head. "Alright, I get it; you're only eight which happens to be a very low point in your life and so on. That's the first clue, by the way."

"What?"

"Think about it," Kuroro said finally, and she heard that touch of impatience in his voice again. "You have a perfectly functional brain, Midoya, and a brilliant one at that. Even if you're only eight, you should be able to guess at this."

"Muh," Midoya replied and defiantly refused to cry. "You said I'm… I'm twenty odd."

"Yes."

"As are you."

"Yes, go on. We don't have all the time in the world."

"Well," Midoya said, standing straighter in the hope it would make her look less upset, "If you're twenty odd and I'm twenty odd, how come I was the only one who got turned to eight?"

"Oh, _finally_. Yes. So?"

"So… I'm the target?"

"Yes. And?"

"If I'm the target… the alternate reality is targeted at me. The way you said it… it sounds like this world was created for a specific purpose, most likely by that weird power you mentioned - that Nen. Since I am the target, it will be designed around me."

"Very good. So?"

"So…" She stared at him blankly.

"So we should visit places that are significant to you," Kuroro finally said with a sigh. "That whoever designed this place knows about your past is evident, given how they reduced you to that one point in life when you felt the most vulnerable. If they know that then they know a great deal about your history. It really isn't difficult, Midoya. You have no idea how much I miss you right now. The actual you would have reached this conclusion a lot sooner than this."

And in that instance, the cotton candy in her turned to titanium: hard, unbreakable titanium made up of stubbornness, annoyance and a good deal of anger. "I do know how much you miss me. You keep telling me that." Midoya planted her fists on her hips and fixed him with a stern look. "Well, unfortunately, you are stuck with little me for the moment, so just suck it up and bear with it." His eyebrows went up. "Given that I am, as you like to say, quite helpless at the moment, we are relying on you to return me to my former self. That would probably proceed a lot faster if you stopped _whinging_ about it." Now his large, eerily black eyes had widened enough that she could see the whites of his eyes clearly. Briefly, Midoya wondered if she had pushed him too far and if he was going to hit her.

Then he laughed, a full-out belly laugh that was so at odds with his menacing looks that she gaped at him. "I apologise," he said, chuckling. "I forgot that even if you are a child, you are still Midoya in infant form. That was a very good scolding, dear. Not quite what you would have done as an adult, which would have been softer, gentler and thus infinitely scarier, but the essence of it was there. I promise I will stop laughing in a while so don't glare anymore."

"I will glare as and when I like," Midoya told him firmly, since he didn't seem incline to hit her. Another growl, further away but still frightening, ghosted through the fog and she jumped despite herself. "Alright, enough chatting," she said, clinging on to his arms, "get me out of here. Now."

"Yes, my lady," Kuroro replied wryly and picked her up again. "Now, whatever happens, stay close to me and don't let go."

"Why?" Midoya asked, settling despite herself into the warmth under his coat.

"Because I see ten more of these monsters and I'm going to run straight through them. If I drop you, you will probably be torn to shreds before I can save you." He smiled sunnily at her. "But no pressure, dear. Just relax and enjoy the ride."

"Oh how nice." Midoya clung as hard as she could to his coat and settled in for the ride. "No pressure at all. Just the way I like it."

* * *

"_As humans, we have a very strange and bizarre relationship with that which we cannot touch. On one hand, we vilify what we fear, what we deem false and faked, like virtual reality. On the other, we valorise that which we desire, like love and passion. What exactly though makes something intangible, invisible and inaudible like love 'true' while something like virtual reality false? Breaking it down further, what is the difference between love for your parents and siblings, and love for your significant other? What makes one 'true love' and the other not? The answer is nothing. There is no real, tangible difference. Therefore, the difference between the real and the virtual is essentially semantics._

_A controversial thought, but an exciting one too. The wonderful, terrifying thing about the intangible lies precisely in its nature as flux. In its impermanence, in its liminality, what has no physical being becomes changeable, malleable, as easily shaped as liquid metal – by oneself or by another." _

_The Inaccessible Unconscious - _


	3. The Gothic Villain and the Romantic

A/N: Hello, back again with another chapter! Hope you guys enjoy it and remember to leave a review at the end!

Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter, _Logic of Sense_, and any other books/movies/songs etc referenced in this story (other than _The Inaccessible Unconscious_) do not belong to me.

* * *

The Gothic Villain and the Romantic Man-child

Kuroro Lucifer, Evil Dancho of the Genei Ryodan, Scourge of this Earth, Homicidal Maniac and Greedy Bastard was carrying an eight year old child in his arms as he ran through an army of strange giant monsters that looked like a mad scientist had fused a human corpse to the neck of a giant hound. If Kurapika hadn't seen what had happened before, he wouldn't have believed his eyes.

Pressing himself against the side of the building, Kurapika glanced at the Dowsing Chain in his hands and carefully followed after the pair. As he did, he breathed a silent thanks to the fog. With it and his use of Zetsu, he was able to hide from the pair ahead in a way that was not normally possible. As it was, he had been plain lucky from the start.

He had seen it clearly when the weird green Nen had struck Midoya Kito, seeming to come out of nowhere. He had seen the backlash hit Kuroro Lucifer who had been standing close to her. Then he had gone down shortly after they had and woken up in… whatever place this was. Probably because he had been further from ground zero, he had recovered faster too. At first, he had been inclined to attack Kuroro Lucifer, but the sight of Midoya Kito shrinking into herself, bones snapping and cracking, had distracted him for too long, and by the time he snapped out of his daze, Kuroro Lucifer had started to recover. So he did the next best thing – he hid away.

Hiding behind the kitchen counter, hidden from sight and Nen by the fog and Zetsu, he had overheard their conversation clearly. He quickly realised then that firstly, he had been accidentally caught up in an attack against Midoya Kito, and secondly, his best bet of getting out of here was following the duo. He did not think that Kuroro Lucifer would be better at escaping this world than he was, but the man had Midoya Kito, the intended target of this attack, and undoubtedly, that would draw the attacker out soon.

So here he was, trailing behind them as they strode through the city. It had become increasingly difficult to keep a visual on them, so he had resorted to using the Dowsing Chain, hidden with _In_, in brief moments when he couldn't follow them by sight or sound. Each release ran the risk of him being discovered, so he had to go far, _far_ away from them just to use his powers. That meant using his powers from over sixty feet away from them. He only moved closer when he sensed they had stopped or when they entered a building. This was not the best way to follow someone, but he didn't have much of a choice at the moment.

Currently, the Dowsing Chain indicated they were slowly but clearly moving towards the central square. That might be because there was something there that they thought would help them. More likely, it was for them to orientate themselves. Kuroro Lucifer didn't live in York Shin, so he obviously wouldn't be familiar with the city, and Midoya Kito was now a child with an out-dated memory of the city. Undoubtedly she was of little use in that aspect.

Midoya Kito. Kurapika felt his Nen swell slightly in response to his emotions. Anger. Pity. Guilt.

Who would have thought such a powerful and rich Hunter could have a past that tragic? Involuntary, indefinite incarceration. Abandonment by her parents. Possible torture. These were things abhorrent enough when done to a grown-up. To imagine a child having to endure all that was nearly unbearable. At the same time, Kurapika couldn't comprehend how anyone, much less a child, could have plotted to kill her own parents. No matter what they had done, they were still her parents, no? Furthermore… how could she date that _man_ after what she had been through? She knew what it was like to be faced with such violence, to be so weak and vulnerable before such cruelty. How could she endure a man who dealt out violence like this, worse than this, on a regular basis?

Yet, even as he made that judgement, he couldn't help feeling he was expecting more of her than was reasonable. She was the woman who fought the Ryodan _three_ times. That was three times more than most Blacklist Hunters dared to. He desperately wanted her to be better than… this.

Anger. Pity. Guilt.

He didn't have the time or the luxury for them.

Kurapika shook his head and looked at the Dowsing Chain again. No change in their trajectory. They were still heading towards the central square. Judging them to be far enough that he could risk moving again, Kurapika got up and started to head in their general direction.

Someone coughed.

Startled, Kurapika spun around, but could see nothing beyond a thick, grey wall of fog. Had he imagined it? He wasn't sure.

Another cough.

This time, Kurapika heard it clearly and he turned to face the direction it had come from. It wasn't Kuroro Lucifer or Midoya Kito, he knew. His chain told him they were at least sixty feet away. Then this had to be…

A dark shape emerged from the fog and Kurapika tensed up. Even through the fog, he could see that whatever was approaching him was four-legged, but not big – that is, not as big as the creatures Kuroro Lucifer fought. Whatever it was, it wasn't human and Kurapika doubted it was friendly. He raised the Dowsing Chain in preparation for a fight.

Slowly, the fog parted and the creature came into sight.

For a moment, Kurapika was flabbergasted. He had expected some kind of bizarre, alien-like creature with rotting flesh and torn skin. What he had not expected was to see a perfectly normal black panther emerge from the fog.

"Um…" Kurapika said cautiously as the big cat pawed out of the fog, approaching him slowly but without any hesitation.

The panther didn't seem hostile, so Kurapika simply held himself still as it approached him, circling around him repeatedly.

"Shoo," Kurapika tried saying and the panther met his eyes. To his surprise, instead of the typical golden eyes of a large cat, he saw black eyes that looked almost human. "Shoo," he repeated, becoming increasingly wary of the creature.

It made a sound, the same coughing sound Kurapika had heard earlier, and he thought it sounded like the panther was laughing at him. Then it gently butted him with its head. It was a playful gesture, but Kurapika was almost knocked over anyway. "Oof," he complained and the panther coughed again. Hesitantly, Kurapika reached out and laid a hand on the powerful head looming above him.

The panther actually purred when he scratched its ears. It was bizarrely cute – in a very scary way.

Then abruptly, the panther's head snapped up, its entire body tensing up. A deep growl rumbled through its body, sending vibrations up Kurapika's arm, and its hackles stood on end. Kurapika climbed to his feet quickly. "What is it?" he asked then felt stupid doing so. It wasn't like the panther could answer him.

To his surprise, the panther deliberately orientated itself so it faced down the street and growled four distinct times.

"Four enemies in that direction?" Kurapika hazarded a guess, feeling somewhat silly.

The panther nodded. Kurapika had never seen a panther nod in his life; it just wasn't natural behaviour for them. But this one did. In other words, it _wasn't_ a panther or at least, not a normal one. He started to ask what it was exactly, but then found he didn't have time to when four of the same creatures that had attacked Kuroro Lucifer lumbered out of the fog.

Four pairs of brilliant green eyes locked onto him and the creatures screamed in unison. Claws scrabbling at the ground, they sprinted forward, grotesquely long tongues lolling out of their unhinged jaws like bloated white worms.

Tensing, Kurapika flicked the Dowsing Chain out, catching the nearest one in the stomach before allowing the ball of his chain to rebound and flick into the second one. Unfortunately, the blunt instrument seemed to do little than annoy them a little. Both creatures howled in harmony and thundered towards him, shaking as if they were about to explode. With a muttered curse, Kurapika leapt back, drawing a slim dagger as he did.

Half-wishing he still carried his twin katanas with him, Kurapika held the dagger up to meet the first attack – then froze when a thunderous roar rocked the air from behind him.

Whipping his head back, Kurapika turned just in time to see the panther bound forward, muscled body flowing gracefully like a shadow wraith, as it leapt onto the nearest creature. The creature howled as the panther's powerful jaws locked around its neck, tearing into flesh and tendon, and spraying bright red blood everywhere. So startled was he that Kurapika barely recovered in time to intercept the second creature.

A well-placed strike and it was down – but no time to breathe for the third and fourth were close behind.

Leaping over the fallen body of the second creature, Kurapika swung his dagger in a wide arc, taking off the head of one of the creatures. The last creature would have gotten him if it hadn't stumbled over the body of its dead comrade, still caught in its death spasms. While it was still off balance, Kurapika shoved his dagger straight through its throat before ripping its windpipe out. With a sigh of relief, Kurapika flicked the blood off his dagger and looked around to see if his new and unexpected ally was alright.

To his surprise, it was gone.

* * *

For most of his life, Kuroro had certain opinions about children (i.e. anyone below the age of twelve). Mostly, it involved him deciding never to father one because children are expensive, vulnerable and troublesome things to have. However, truth be told, that judgement was based on his observations of other families. This was the first time he had ever had any extended contact with a child as an adult.

After a couple hours into the relationship, he realised that all along, he had been absolutely right.

Children _are_ troublesome.

To be fair, Midoya as a child was not much less pleasant than her adult-self. She was quiet, intelligent and understood his instructions immediately. When Kuroro sensed that there were no enemies nearby, she obediently walked next to him, holding on to his coat and generally keeping to herself instead of wailing and screaming about chocolate or rat guts or whatever it is children wail and scream about. When there were enemies, he picked her up and ran, or put her in a corner and went out to deal with them himself. Upon returning, he would find her waiting patiently for him at the exact spot he had left her. That was all fine and well, and Kuroro didn't mind having to fight by himself. He was an excellent fighter and could battle like this for as long as was needed to get them out of this world.

That would turn out to be longer than usual though given how pathetically _weak_ a child's body is.

When Midoya yawned and stumbled for the fifth time in a row, Kuroro finally decided there was no point pushing her to exhaustion when there was no end in sight yet. So he steered her into the nearest building he could find that he felt he could defend with some degree of reliability.

"We're taking a rest here," he told her. "Sleep well because you'll need your strength for later."

"Okay," she replied, eyes already closing. "Do you feel hungry?"

Kuroro shook his head. "No," he told her.

"Neither do I," she mumbled, already half-asleep. "Strange huh?"

Kuroro blinked. That was… interesting. "Perhaps. What else is strange?" he asked, keeping his tone even.

She yawned and looked at him. "What?" she mumbled. "What's strange?"

Interesting. "No matter," Kuroro told her. He looked around the room they were in. It appeared to be the lobby of a smallish hotel, with a service counter in one corner and cosy armchairs filling the rest of the room. "Come here," he said, taking her hand and leading her to one particular sofa that had its back to a wall and was in a corner that allowed him to see the rest of the room. "Rest here."

Without waiting for her, he settled into one corner of the couch. She promptly climbed onto his lap and fell asleep there.

Staring down at her, Kuroro couldn't help but wonder what had gone wrong with this child. Midoya was not a physical person by nature; that was what he had always thought. This child's propensity to stick to him at all times proved that Midoya had started off as a highly physical person and had eventually weaned herself of this slightly annoying habit. It wasn't that he minded being touched; but like the adult Midoya, Kuroro was a loner and introvert by nature, and he needed his own space for at least a couple of minutes.

No matter. He could just push her away once she was deep in sleep and wouldn't notice. There were other things that required his attention.

One was the odd statement that the child just made. It _was_ strange that neither of them felt hungry. The last time they ate was last night when they had pizza with the Ryodan and Pepeka. That was probably over twelve hours ago and though Kuroro could endure hunger pretty well, he had never _not_ felt it before. The state she was in when she said it in was significant too. That she only noticed and voiced these things while she was barely conscious suggested that Midoya's subconscious, the one that was her normal grown-up self, was slipping through. In that case, her observations were hints.

What could it mean?

Kuroro closed his eyes and frowned. "What do you mean, Midoya?" he murmured, glancing down at the tiny form cradled in his arms. "What do you mean by that? We are trapped in an alternate reality, another world that parallels ours. Why is it significant that we're not hungry… oh." Kuroro blinked. "Oh, I see," he said and wondered how he _hadn't_ seen it earlier.

In what alternate reality would they exist in a state where they didn't feel hungry? Simple: a dream. No, not just any dream; Midoya's dream. They were trapped in _her_ dream. The only reason why they wouldn't feel hungry is if their existence was not physical, in short, whereby they weren't actual living organisms that needed food. That meant they were existing in a state where they weren't corporeal beings. This explanation made sense. For the longest time, Kuroro had been pondering over how much Nen it must have taken to not just transform Midoya but transport the both of them into an alternate reality. That was the sort of power most people didn't have. In fact, he had half-suspected it was a group of powerful Nen-users working together that did this. But dragging them into a dream would require so much less effort and could be accomplished easily by a fairly powerful Nen-user.

Moreover, those creatures they saw… if this was a dream then their appearances made sense. This alternate reality wasn't just shaped around Midoya's past, it was drawn directly from her memories and projected into a nightmare.

"So we're in a dream," he murmured. "Your dream."

"Yes," Midoya whispered in her sleep and Kuroro smiled.

"You figured it out before I did, my little genius," he said fondly to the sleeping child. "Thank you for the hint. It is very helpful."

A smile curved Midoya's lips as she continued to sleep.

"I don't suppose it is possible for you to give me more help?" he mused out loud. "Protecting you as a child is a rather tiring job."

Midoya snored. He wondered if it was a genuine one or just adult Midoya being an absolute ass. It could go either way. It's not easy for the subconscious to make itself heard in a coherent way, but his Midoya was stubborn, intelligent, and not someone who thought much about laws, obstacles and barriers. So some psychologists say the subconscious can't access the conscious mind and vice versa. _So what_? Midoya's voice said in his mind and Kuroro smiled fondly. So what indeed.

But Midoya's subconscious aside, it was interesting and probably significant if they were truly only in a dream. The obvious thing they needed to do was wake up. Specifically, since this dream was Midoya's, he needed _her_ to wake up. He just had no idea how. Pinching themselves probably wouldn't help; Midoya already had several minor scratches on her knees and hands. If that didn't wake her up, nothing would.

Still, all was not lost. That they were both stuck in the dream meant that someone out there was deliberately keeping them trapped. If the curse could be laid then it could also be removed. Kuroro was unsure if that could be done from within the dream, but it was worth a try. He had no doubt clues could be found in places significant to Midoya. That was his initial hunch and he stuck with it. If this was a dream built around Midoya then there must be something in here related to her that would help them.

A growl.

Startled out of his thoughts, Kuroro looked up immediately. The fog wasn't as heavy in the hotel lobby and seemed to stay mostly out of it. Beyond the glass doors leading into the lobby though, he could see dark shapes moving, slow, lumbering forms that went into occasional spasms.

"Midoya," he murmured, shaking the sleeping child. "Midoya, wake up."

The child barely stirred. If he didn't see her chest rising and falling with each breath, he would have thought her dead. Silently, Kuroro got to his feet and slid over the hotel counter. As expected, there was a tiny room just out of sight, where the hotel employees could go to rest. A quick check ensured that it had no windows and no other ways of accessing it other than the door he had just walked through. Swiftly, he put the child in the furthest corner behind a short metal cabinet so that she wouldn't be immediately noticeable by someone walking in. Just in case, he took off the shirt he was wearing inside his coat, a black collar shirt, and draped it over her so she blended even better into the darkness. He would have gone with the coat usually, but it was definitely way too big for her in this form. Then he turned and left, bending and twisting the door frame behind him so it couldn't be opened easily.

Reassured that Midoya was as safe as she could be in this situation, Kuroro slipped into Zetsu and carefully approached the dark shapes outside. The sofas and armchairs in the hotel lobby proved to be excellent hiding places so Kuroro crouched as low as his knees would allow him to and started to slip between the furniture. Once he was as close to the glass doors as he could be without actually pressing his face against it, he peeked out from behind a conveniently large sofa.

As he had suspected, the creatures outside weren't the same Armando Basilio-lookalikes he had fought earlier. They didn't move the same way and were much bigger than the creatures he had encountered before. Much, _much_ bigger in fact. Like the Basilio-creatures, these appeared to be half-man, half-beast, with the body and legs of a massive bull and the head and torso of a human being. At first Kuroro thought these creatures didn't have any arms, but then he realised their torsos appeared to be wrapped in straitjackets. They all had identical faces too, but this time, he didn't recognise it though he could see it clearly. It was that of what appeared to be an old, distinguished man with a kindly wrinkled face but with a strength to the chin that suggested pride and class.

It didn't seem that any of these creatures have noticed him so Kuroro quietly retreated back into the hotel lobby, thinking furiously. If this was Midoya's dream then he supposed those bizarre creatures they have been running into must be the embodiment of her nightmares. He hadn't known till recently that Midoya _had_ nightmares, but now that he did, he supposed he should anticipate running into more figures from her past now.

His back hit the hotel counter and he stood up carefully to slide over – then leapt over quickly because the door which Midoya was hidden behind was hanging open.

A lesser man would have just rushed in blindly and ended up being decapitated by a hidden enemy.

Unfortunately, that thought only occurred to Kuroro _after_ he had already stepped into the room. Fortunately for him, there were no hidden enemies in there ready to remove his head from his neck. Just as unfortunately, Midoya was not in there either.

Kuroro frowned. How had someone yanked that door out of its twisted frame and carried off Midoya without him noticing? Impossible. The hotel lobby wasn't big and was eerily silent; he should have heard something. But that was beside the point. He had to find Midoya now. She was practically defenceless in the state she was in now. He had to…

A low growl.

Kuroro whipped around so fast his knees cracked alarmingly (age; nothing to do about that). Behind him, dropped into a low crouch, was a black panther. For a moment, Kuroro could only stare. In this world of strange mutated creatures and grotesque monsters, a perfectly normal-looking panther was a truly odd sight indeed.

"Another part of Midoya's dreamscape?" he mused out loud.

The panther growled, a soft, rumbling growl that sent ripples through its muscular body, and started to pad towards him. Kuroro briefly deliberated readying himself for a fight, but didn't in the end. The panther was obviously not hostile towards him and there was no point provoking an attack with what could turn out to be Midoya's dream version of a teddy bear.

Another growl, this one resembling a human's cough more than anything else, and Kuroro glanced at the panther. It had stopped at the base of a flight of stairs that led, Kuroro assumed, to the hotel rooms. The panther growled again and put one paw on the first step. It glanced back at him then up the stairs then at him again.

"You want me to follow you?" Kuroro asked and was sure the panther rolled its strange jet-black eyes at him. "Well alright," he said dubiously. "But if it turns out that you just need to go out and answer nature's call, I shall be very mad with you."

The panther rolled its eyes at him again and this time he saw it clearly. Then with a chuffing sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, it started up the stairs.

With a sigh Kuroro followed.

* * *

_His wrists were cuffed together with what seemed like genuine, sturdy handcuffs – the kind the police use on hardened criminals. The loop of the chain went around the headrest of the bed._

_She blinked slowly, uncertainly, as her eyes travelled down pale, muscular arms to the handsome head resting face-up on the pillow. Though he was chained up, his expression was calm, blank even, save for the slightest flush of pink on his cheeks. Her eyes travelled further down, over the broad, pale chest, the flat, toned stomach… then behind her, at his legs, which were chained to the bed posts. _

_Her eyes glided up to meet his and he smiled at her, his eyes roving over her. It occurred, quite belatedly, to her, that she was naked too – and that she had breasts. They were not large, but they were there, which was more than she could normally say. Her eyes went back to the naked body between her thighs and she realised that despite the way his body was trapped and vulnerable, he didn't seem the slightest bit nervous. In fact, he seemed quite pleased with the situation, which was not something she understood completely. _

"_Are you not upset with this arrangement?" she mused out loud and he chuckled. _

"_Only if you leave me alone like this," he replied and rolled his hips gently against hers. _

_Oh. So it was this kind of situation. She hadn't realised, though she should have given how the both of them weren't wearing anything. It was a classic picture right out of those books Stable Boy kept under his bed. _

"_Midoya?" he murmured, nudging her with his hips again. "You're not really going to leave me like this, are you?" _

"_No," she replied and wondered why she said so. It wasn't like she knew what she was supposed to do now. Or maybe she did. One finger – her finger – was tracing a random, whimsical trail up and down his chest. "I think therefore I am," she murmured, watching his skin prickle. "The affirmation of the mind." _

"_And the basis for all horror films based on zombies," he replied wryly. _

_His face was still calm, blank even, and for some reason, that made her want to be cruel. Her teeth tugged into skin (that spot on his neck that is always so sensitive) and she felt rather than heard the slight hitch in his breath. "If I do not think then I do not exist," she whispered, licking the tender spot she had bitten. "The body is not me. It is just meat." _

"_And therefore to become a mindless piece of flesh driven by the Id is so terrifying," he whispered in reply, tilting his head back slightly. _

"_But that is not sufficient, is it?" She sat back and was pleased to see that his eyes had glazed over. "The body must be there for the mind to exist." _

"_Mmmm," he murmured, and his face turned just a shade pinker. "The brain needs to exist for the mind to exist." _

"_And the brain needs the rest of the body for it to exist," she replied, now enthusiastically licking a train down his torso. _

"_What is a thought if it cannot be voiced," he breathed, and she heard the arousal in his voice clearly this time. _

"_What is a voice if what it says cannot be implemented," she whispered against his skin – and slid him into her. _

_It was interesting, she thought, watching his face crack. He didn't become a writhing mess of passion like in those pornographic stories Maid sometimes read. If anything, his face hardly changed, but it was the subtleties that made it interesting; it was how his eyes half-shut, how his lips parted ever so slightly, how his breathing sped up just that little bit that made it so… fun. _

_She moved over him, feeling that warmth again and that damp, feeling his body straining against the restrains and struggling to press harder into her. She heard him whisper her name, just once this time, but oh so deliciously. She heard him beg in that one word, heard him beg for more, heard him…_

Midoya's eyes snapped open.

Wow. What was with the sudden increase in sex dreams lately? Awkward. Either she was hitting puberty a lot sooner than was normal or she was dreaming of things that had happened to her as an…

Midoya shut down on that thought and let her eyes rove around. Where was Kuroro anyway? It was so dark she could hardly see anything.

"Kuroro?" she asked, sitting up. To her surprise, she was no longer on the sofa she had fallen asleep on. Instead, she seemed to have been stuffed into a corner next to some metal… furniture. Something was draped over her, something black and familiar. His shirt. Kuroro's shirt. What was his shirt doing on her? Was she supposed to wear it? It was warm and covered more of her than her hospital gown did so she slid her arms into the sleeves, rolling them up the best she could.

Outfit settled, Midoya peeked out from behind the metal cabinet. Where was he? Given that he was the one who had told her to stay close, it seemed odd that he had left her alone in this… where was this anyway? A brief search through the cabinet revealed a series of receipts, invoices and notes. The hotel management office then. Well, what was she doing here?

Through the dark, Midoya caught a glimpse of a dim glow. She recognised it immediately as the glow left behind after someone or something living had touched an inanimate object. It looked like Kuroro's glow, though she wasn't sure. She reached out and touched it. It was a handprint, she realised, from where he had gripped the door knob. Hesitantly, she placed her hands over the knob and twisted. It turned easily, but the door refused to budge.

A shiver ran through her body and she knocked on the door. "Kuroro?" she called. "Are you out there? I'm stuck in here." She pressed her ear to the door. "Kuroro?"

Something hit the door on the other side hard enough that she bounced off it.

Shaken, she picked herself up from the floor, staring warily at the door. "Kuroro?" she whispered, backing away slowly until she was behind the metal cabinet again. "This is a good time for you to show up."

A thin, screeching sound filled the air, as it someone was running their nails down the door – running very sharp nails down the door.

Then the door opened soundlessly.

Midoya held her breath and froze in place as a _massive_ dark shape filled the entire doorway. Definitely not Kuroro; she didn't need to be able to use Gyo or whatever it was called to know that. Glad for Kuroro's black shirt which concealed her more than her off-white hospital gown, she held herself still as the creature dipped its head and stepped into the room.

Another familiar face. Midoya's eyes slid up the hooves splattered with blood and gore, to the heavy, muscular bull's body, to the distinctly human face. She had seen that face before. Neville McGraw; Father's lawyer. What was he doing here now, and in this form too?

Then the smell, a chaotic, odorous assault of animal musk, blood and rot, hit her and she gagged. In the enclosed space, it was enough to make her feel like vomiting. But she kept as still as a statue as Neville McGraw's grandfatherly face, now covered with bloody tears and pus-filled wounds, scanned the room suspiciously. With how small the room was, the creature was now no more than three feet away from her. The only reason it hadn't seen her yet was because she was hidden in the tiny space behind the cabinet. That wouldn't last long though.

Swallowing nervously, Midoya pressed her head against the wall and looked towards the door. As far as she could see, she didn't have a route out. The desk next to the cabinet was pressed up to the wall so there was no way she could crawl behind it. She had to sit and wait till the creature left or Kuroro turned up.

That screeching sound came again, this time much closer, and something wet and foul dripped onto the floor in front of her.

Midoya closed her eyes. This was… ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked up to see Neville McGraw's face snarling down at her. Her heart skipped in an alarming way, and for a moment, she thought she might pass out. That made her feel even more stupid, like one of those ridiculously helpless heroines of eighteen-century gothic horror.

But she wasn't, was she? No matter that she was supposed to be locked up in a mental asylum like one of those poor women. She was pretty darn certain none of Samuel Richardson's little blonde things actively plotted their tormentor's murder while locked away.

So instead of screaming and fainting, Midoya threw herself forward and between the creature's legs. The next few seconds were a terrifying ordeal of stomping hooves and angry screams then she was out on the other side and racing out the door. Running into the reception counter told her she was now in the hotel lobby, but she couldn't see anything at all. A thick fog seemed to have swept into the lobby obscuring everything in sight.

"Kuroro!" she shouted even as she ran along the counter until she was out from behind it. She couldn't rely on her missing supposed future-boyfriend. If he was nearby and had any intention of helping her, he would have turned up by now, what with all the noise that horrid creature was making. He might be far off somewhere doing something horrible to similar creatures or he could have abandoned her. Whatever the case, she was on her own.

Sniffling a little, Midoya ducked just in time to avoid being trampled on by those disgusting, gore-stained hooves.

No good, she couldn't fight it; she had to run. A flight of stairs caught her attention and she darted up it before she could think twice.

At the top, she stopped to catch her breath even as the creature stomped after her, roaring menacingly. A short corridor lay before her. Rooms. Four on the left, four on the right. Locked, all of them. Little red lights above the door knobs. No place to hide. Up.

Gasping, feeling her thin, sunken chest heaving with each painful breath, she scrambled down the corridor to the flight of stairs at the other end. She barely made it a third of the way before the creature burst into the corridor, screaming and screeching like nails scratching repeatedly, maniacally down a blackboard.

"Oh bugger me silly," Midoya babbled incoherently and ran as fast as she could for the end of the corridor.

She never reached it.

Before she could take two steps from where she was, the creature pounced over her, ripping away the wallpaper and smashing through parts of the wall at it did. Now her way was blocked by a giant monster that smelt like an entire zoo of zombie animals.

Midoya stumbled to a stop and turned left immediately. She never knew she had reflexes that fast, but there it was. Danger obviously trumped un-used, atrophied muscles, she mused hysterically, as she threw herself bodily through one of the broken down doors.

Something hard and prickly slammed into her shoulder as she tumbled clumsily through, but she didn't have time to think about that because the creature was trying to force its way in through the half-broken door now. Risking a glance over her shoulder, she saw the heavily scarred face of Neville McGraw snarling bloody saliva at her as he repeatedly smashed his head into the remains of the door.

Swallowing hard, Midoya looked around the room she was in and realised she was trapped. There was nowhere else to go but into the attached bathroom and even then, there was no place to hide and no way out.

The creature hurled itself against the door frame again and a large chunk of the door smashed into the other side of the room. Instinctively, Midoya slipped under the bed. Being in the dark always made her feel better, safer, even if she was only too aware what an illusion that was. There was no way the creature hadn't seen her hide; the room was too small for her actions to have gone unnoticed.

Curling into a tight ball in the furthest corner, Midoya breathed in the odour of damp and mildew, and wondered with numb hysteria if this was the last thing she would smell before she died. That seemed pathetic, even worse than dying from a drug overdose in a mental asylum. It made her feel sad and entirely resentful. Now she would never know if those dreams she had been having were real or not.

Somehow her hands ended up wandering around the carpet, searching for something, she didn't know what – didn't know until something cold and sharp sliced through her fingers, drawing a pained gasp from her. She snatched her fingers away from the offending object and, in almost the same instance, darted out to grab it again.

It was a… dagger, a knife. A short blade, just a couple of inches long, but solid and real in a world that seemed to be made up of half-dreams and illusions. Midoya's hand closed around the cold steel of the handle and drew in a shaky breath. It felt so (_familiar_) good, strong. _And_ it was sharp and pointy and would do a lot of damage to living flesh.

A smile spread across her face, the first in many years. But then her skin stretched uncomfortably, as if it had gotten too stiff and small for her face, so she stopped. Instead, she picked the knife up and crept out from under the bed. The creature was still pounding relentlessly at the door frame. Part of the wall around it had collapsed, forming a space that was too tiny for the creature to come through. But, it was enough for her to stick a knife through.

So she did.

Gritting her teeth, Midoya approached a break in the wall nervously and stuck the knife into it. The blade brushed against the bloody fur of the creature without even nicking it. Right. She had a moment to wish her knife was a little longer before the creature's head was in her face, screeching maniacally at her. Startled, Midoya stumbled back, somehow managing to swipe at the creature's face as she did. It might have cut its skin, might even have drawn a bit of blood, not that she could tell. But Midoya tried to take heart in it. At least she wasn't totally useless.

Trying to imagine herself as the powerful Blacklist Hunter Kuroro told her she was, Midoya scrambled back to her feet and approached the thrashing head one more time. It snarled at her, showing rotting, blunt teeth covered in blood and black bile. Midoya struck nervously at it again and it roared at her, red eyes widening so much she could see the bloodshot yellowed sclera of its eyes.

"Oh, bugger me," she muttered and tried again.

Just as her knife flicked at the face, it abruptly disappeared, withdrawing back into the corridor with an agonised howl. Even though Midoya couldn't hear anything, she could hear the creature thrashing about, fighting someone or something. She wondered who until she heard a masculine, _human_ grunt.

"Kuroro," she breathed, relieved and hurried to the broken wall to peer out of it. She arrived just in time to see the creature explode in a splatter of guts and blood. "Ugh," she complained, backing away from the broken wall immediately. "Could you not have…" Her voice died off when she realised the man standing there _wasn't_ Kuroro.

If anything, he was the exact opposite of Kuroro. If Kuroro was the embodiment of gothic literature, this boy looked like a character a Romantic poet of the likes of Tennyson or Coleridge would have dreamed up. His features were delicate, almost feminine, and gave him an air of innocence and youth. His hair was blonde and bright, made even more dazzling by the dulled landscape of this nightmarish world. But Midoya instinctively distrusted him; the distinctively mafia suit might have had something to do with that.

"Who are you?" she asked warily, backing away from the wall, only all too aware that this man, unlike the monster, was quite capable of climbing through any of the holes in it.

The delicate face with large grey eyes peered through one of the bigger holes. "Kurapika," he replied. "Don't bother explaining yourself. I know you don't remember me, Midoya. Where's Kuroro Lucifer? Why isn't he with you?"

Midoya blinked. He knew Kuroro. An ally of Kuroro's then? No… the way he said that name, first name and surname together, suggested an unfamiliarity or a desire to distance himself from Kuroro. An enemy of Kuroro's then? But he didn't look hostile. His glow was slightly elevated but not… bad. Not evil. Not like Father's. "I don't know where he is," she said finally. "I woke up alone in a locked room."

Now the delicate features were scrunched up in a scowl of distaste. "He probably abandoned you because you became too troublesome to take care of," he muttered. "Stupid, selfish, greedy Spiders." Shaking his head, the man held out a delicate hand framed by incongruously heavy metal chains that she disliked immediately. "Come on," he said in a gentler voice, "take my hand. Let's get you out of here."

"Why?" Midoya demanded, retreating until she hit the bed.

"Because there are more of these… things around," the young man said patiently. "We should leave before they turn up."

"Okay," Midoya said, cautiously retreating under the bed again. "But why should I go with you? Explain how I know you."

The young man shook his head, looking annoyed. "Alright," he said. "I'm Kurapika, a Hunter. We met in the Hunter's Association where you lied to me then saved my life and the lives of hundreds of others."

Midoya blinked. "Oh," she said awkwardly. "I saved your life? What happened?"

"Some guy called Raven was going to blow up the Hunter HQ. I was in it. You defeated him. The HQ didn't blow up. Neither did I."

"Really? Raven? Does he read a lot of bad vampire fiction?"

"Most likely, yes."

"And I lied to you? About what?"

The young man gave her an odd look now. "I want to kill Kuroro Lucifer," he said frankly. "He massacred my entire tribe. You had fought him two times before the HQ incident and I wanted to know what you know about him and his Genei Ryodan. It turns out you were dating him even from back then so you lied to me."

"I fought him?" Her brows crinkled. "I thought I was dating him."

"Evidently you have a very troubled relationship."

"Or a very unique one." Midoya shook her head trying to reconcile Kuroro's description of a rather creative and intimate relationship with what this man was telling her now. But that was too difficult to do so she ignored it in favour of addressing her biggest concern. "You're mafia," she said suspiciously. "I don't trust mafia."

"Why? You work with them," the young man replied bluntly. "Besides, I am not interested in being mafia except that it helps me in my quest. It really is too complicated to explain. Are you coming with me or not?"

Well, so the Romantic man-child could be a lot meaner than the gothic villain, which was saying a lot given how cruel Kuroro could be. Midoya shook her head. It wasn't time to ponder issues like that. Should she trust this man or not? Instinctively, she thought she could. Besides, it wasn't like she could stop him if he insisted on taking her by force. So Midoya crept out from under the bed again, sliding the knife she had found into her shirt pocket.

The man-child known as Kurapika blinked when he saw her. "Are you wearing _his_ shirt?" he asked, looking repulsed.

"He left it with me," Midoya replied defensively, clutching the hem of the shirt tightly. "Besides, it's warmer than what I'm wearing."

Kurapika rolled his eyes but didn't comment on it anymore. "Come on," he said instead. "Take my hand."

Midoya did, and he lifted her easily out of there with one hand. Either she had lost more weight than she had realised or this man-child was a lot stronger than he appeared. "What are we doing now?" she asked, nervously shying away from the carcass of the creature that had attacked her while trying not to appear as if she was doing so.

"What was Kuroro Lucifer's plan?" he asked.

"To visit places that are significant to me." Midoya shrugged. "He felt the key to leaving this alternate reality might lie there since I seem to be the target of this Nen whatever."

"It is a good start," Kurapika agreed grudgingly. "Let's get onto it then. This hotel doesn't mean anything to you, does it?"

"No."

"Then let's get out of here. The first floor was swarming with monsters the last I saw it."

"But…" Midoya glanced at the staircase that led to the hotel lobby. "What about Kuroro?"

"What about him?" Kurapika gave her a look. "He abandoned you. Get used to it. The Spiders are not exactly known for _caring_."

"But what if…" Midoya stopped when Kurapika suddenly glanced at the staircase. "What is it?"

"Monsters coming up," he said, taking her hand and leading her towards the staircase that led to the upper floors. "Many of them; probably three or four. We can't fight them in this enclosed area. We're going up to the roof."

"Can you take on three or four of these things by yourself?" she asked.

"If we are in an open space, yes."

"Cool," Midoya breathed and looked upon this man-child with new respect.

Then there was barely time to think about anything else as a chorus of screeches heralded the arrival of more of these creatures. Wordlessly, Kurapika gripped her hand and dragged her relentlessly up the stairs. Midoya followed, struggling to run as fast as she could at first, but eventually settling for being dragged around like a sack of meat. At least he tried to be gentle about it, or as gentle as a grown man dragging a young girl around could be.

Five minutes worth of bruises later, they burst onto the roof of the hotel. The cold and damp hit immediately as the ever-present fog rolled around her like a heavy, wet curtain. "Oh," she mumbled involuntarily and shivered. The roof of the hotel was dirty, mouldy and looked like it hadn't been washed in a while. It was peppered with a series of ancient ventilation shafts and what appeared to be a water storage container. All appeared to have been untouched in as many years.

"Get back here," Kurapika said hurriedly and shoved her behind a ventilation shaft. The smell of mould penetrated her nose and her hand touched something slimy. Midoya jerked her hand away immediately but remained sitting still, largely because three of those creatures had just come out of the roof top access door and were barrelling down on them.

"Eek," Midoya muttered and squeezed into the tiny space between the shaft and the sides of the roof, probably getting all sorts of dangerous and infectious fungi on her as she did.

Kurapika, like a good bodyguard, turned to face the creatures charging straight at him. He raised his hand, the one with the chains on it, and exhaled deeply. Immediately, one of the chains, the one with a ball attached at the end, leapt to life and smacked the first creature in the face. The creature howled and backtracked into its fellow monster behind it, and both went down with a heavy thud. With barely a blink, Kurapika flicked his wrist expertly and the chain wrapped around the third creature like a snake. The creature didn't even have time to scream before he ripped it to bloody shreds.

Midoya drew in a deep, shaky breath, and retreated deeper into her hiding place. There was something about that chain that unnerved her. It wasn't the weapon itself, she thought, but the… glow around it. It was filled with life and death and so much hatred Midoya thought it might turn against its user and attack him. It appeared that sentient and malicious. Even Kuroro's nen, a self-proclaimed murderer and thief's Nen, didn't seem quite so… evil.

Hot, wet air suddenly rushed over her and Midoya blinked. Where had that come from? It appeared to have… A dribble of something slimy and green splattered onto the ground before her feet. Midoya swallowed. Oh dear lord. Another damsel-in-distress moment. Slowly, she looked up.

A massive monstrous face, like a bat's but furless and more squashed leered down at her. Narrow, beady eyes, stained with blood at the edges, seemed to stare straight into her soul. Then the pink flesh of the creature's face split into half as a cavernous mouth opened and snarled at her. Sharp, green-stained teeth gleamed in the dull light.

Midoya managed to scream just once before the teeth closed in around her.

* * *

"_So often when people think of alternate realities, they think of time travel. At any moment in time, we all make choices, and each choice we make sets us off on a particular time stream. However, the potential for that alternate time stream still exists and could exist and therefore an alternate reality where we chose it is born._

_What is an alternate reality though and is it necessarily linked to time? It is, surprisingly hard to define. For an alternate reality could be much like our own world, with the subtlest of differences. Or it could be a fantastically different world, one filled with the embodiments of the wildest imaginations. _

_Sound familiar? It should. We visit them every night. _

_Dreams are, by this definition, a type of alternate reality. They are worlds where history had gone in a different direction, where the fantastical can happen, where the mundane can remain. _

_Dreams are realities, realities that run parallel to the reality we know. Too often, one can visit a dream and discover every regret and every mistake ever made. Too often, dreams show us how our realities could have changed if we had made a different choice. Too often, dreams show us exactly what it is that we desire and fear the most." _

"_The Inaccessible Consciousness"_


	4. How to Bond with the Enemy

A/N: Hello, back again with another chapter! I must warn you, things are going to get a little crazy from now on. All for a reason, I promise. It helps to remember dreams are more symbolic than anything else, so… yeah. Stick with me; I promise it will all make sense by the end of the story!

In the meantime, thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. I don't always have a chance to reply to individual reviews, so here's a general thank you for all reviews received. I really appreciate you guys taking the time to write out a review for me!

Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter, _Logic of Sense_, and any other books/movies/songs etc referenced in this story (other than _The Inaccessible Unconscious_) do not belong to me.

* * *

How to Bond with the Enemy

One creature was dead, innards and blood scattered over the dirty expanse of the roof, but the two that had gone down were back on their feet. One of them was spitting out broken teeth. The other was clutching a broken nose. Neither of them looked happy at all.

That suited Kurapika just fine. "Come and get me," he said coldly, allowing the Dowsing Chain to float around him like a bizarre art piece in a museum. "I'll put you down like the beasts you are."

Snarling and growling, both creatures charged as one, and it was the easiest thing in the world to twine the Dowsing Chain around them and smash them together. Rinse and repeat – until the both of them were a pile of smelly mulch.

Grimly satisfied with his efforts, Kurapika started to tell the child behind him that it was alright to come out when a piercing scream tore through the air.

Kurapika turned around just in time to see an enormous creature almost half the size of the roof, spread over the building like a giant blanket. It looked like a deformed, hairless bat with green slime dripping down its wrinkled face and over leathery wings. The puffy, fleshy face leered grotesquely at Kurapika, beady black eyes barely visible beneath the folds of flesh.

For a moment, Kurapika could only stare at it and wonder how he hadn't noticed its arrival. Then he saw the tiny form clamped in the creature's mouth, dripping blood onto the roof.

"Midoya!" he shouted, running forward, chain prepared to strike the beast – but the tiny form only hung there limply. "Rotten crops," Kurapika cursed and swung his chain at the creature's face. It connected, but the creature only growled and bit down harder on the still figure in its jaws.

Blood splashed onto the roof and a looming sense of dread turned his insides cold. Midoya was an incredibly small and fragile child; how much blood could such a petite frame hold? Violently, Kurapika swung the Dowsing Chain again.

"Let go!" he snarled through gritted teeth, but the creature only flinched irritably at his repeated attacks. With what could only be described as a frustrated huff, it started to flap its wings, lifting off from the roof. "No!" Kurapika cried, but the creature was already airborne.

In a spur of desperation, Kurapika flung the chain out as far as his mind could stretch it, and looped it around one of the creature's legs. It fluttered in mid-air, suddenly pulled off balance by the unexpected weight. Kurapika strained against it, summoning as much Nen as he could into the chain in an attempt to draw the creature back.

But it was too strong and too large.

The next thing Kurapika knew, he was flat on the ground, being dragged mercilessly across rough and uneven ground, as the creature's wings started to beat in earnest. Kurapika said a word that would have made his Grandpa smack him upside down, and struggled to grab on to anything, _anything_, that would anchor him down. His free hand slipped helplessly over the slime-covered surface of a ventilation shaft then scrabbled in vain to grab on to a crack in the ground.

"No!" Kurapika shouted in frustration as the edge of the roof rushed towards him. "No, damn it! No!"

A pair of arms, strong, warm and definitely human clamped around his waist like a vice, and a heavy weight grounded him to a stop.

"If you let that creature escape, I will personally decapitate your head in the most gruesome way I know," Kuroro Lucifer grunted through gritted teeth.

Kurapika's eyes widened at the sight of the _monstrous_ Dancho of the Genei Ryodan wrapped around him like a koala bear. "Let go of me!" he roared, and drove an elbow into that repulsive face

The Spider's head snapped back and blood trickled out of his nose. "If I do, that creature is going to take flight, carrying you and Midoya away," Kuroro Lucifer snapped, looking only mildly annoyed by the blow. "I couldn't care less about you, but if you let that thing _eat_ my lover, I will find those two boys you care about so much and I will skin them alive and make you eat it, so shut up and hang on you _fool_."

The threat to Gon and Killua made something in his chest quiver uncontrollably with rage and terror, not least because he knew exactly the kind of torture this man was capable of. He wanted to take a dagger out and dig it into this man's eye, but… Midoya was still up there, and even if she had lied to him, even she was dating this… _man_, she had still been a comrade, if only for a brief period of time. Besides, she was only a child now, and no child deserves to die like that.

So, instead of mutilating that face, Kurapika turned back to his chain and poured Nen into it. "So what? We just keep hanging on until one of us runs out of strength?" he sneered.

"Don't be a moron," Kuroro Lucifer replied coldly. "Hang on tight. I'm going to move you."

"Move me where?" Kurapika demanded apprehensively.

"I'm going to throw you down that ventilation shaft."

"What?" Kurapika's head snapped back to stare at that _face_. "Throw me down a what?"

Kuroro Lucifer smiled a cruel, malicious smile. "Boy, you are the only thing keeping that creature from flying away with Midoya. As you so succinctly pointed out, there is no point having the two of us cling on to each other until Midoya bleeds to death or the creature dies of sheer boredom. So, I'm going to stuff you down a ventilation shaft so the creature can't drag you off the roof. Your job is simply to keep that chain wrapped around the creature and act as a good stopper. Then I will be free to retrieve Midoya. Got it?"

"That is ridiculous!" Kurapika screeched. "You can't just throw me down some dank, mouldy shaft! I will _die_!"

"Of course I can," Kuroro Lucifer replied mildly. "Midoya's life means a lot more to me than yours. In fact, I would be quite happy if you fell a long way and smashed your skull open. Oh, that thought does perk me up considerably." He smiled a smile as sweet as a baby's and as rotten as a gangrened wound. "Shall we?"

This time, Kurapika did draw his dagger and swipe it at the maniac. Unfortunately, the Spider had a lot more leverage than he did, and he darted out of the way easily enough. With great ease, Kurapika found himself being lifted onto Kuroro Lucifer's shoulder. "If you don't put me down this instant, I'm going to release the chain!" Kurapika shrieked. "I swear I will! Put me down now!"

"No you wouldn't," Kuroro Lucifer said idly. "You like and admire Midoya too much."

"You…!"

Suddenly, just as Kurapika was about to put a dagger through that smug face, a loud roar thundered through the air. Both Kurapika and Kuroro Lucifer froze in place. The bestial roar had been so loud and so close they had _felt_ the sound waves passing through them, vibrating in their chests and in their bones.

Then a black shadow streaked past them. Another thunderous roar ripped through the air, tangible in its ferocity – and he turned just in time to see a black panther _leap_ off the roof at the creature. With a blood-curdling snarl, it bit into the creature's back, digging its fangs in deeply and shaking at the torn flesh violently. The creature screamed and started to buck violently in an attempt to throw the panther off – but it dug its claws in and stayed put.

The chain pulled unexpectedly and Kurapika was dragged off Kuroro Lucifer's shoulder. Since Kuroro Lucifer refused to let go, they both went down as the creature started to drag them off the roof.

"Do _not_ let go," Kuroro Lucifer said harshly as he grabbed on to Kurapika's belt in an attempt to hold the both of them down.

"Do you see me letting go?" Kurapika shot back venomously as he clung desperately to his chain. Anymore of this and his shoulder was going to be pulled out of its joint. He could already hear it creaking and twisting ominously.

The chain pulled again and both of them swore in unison. With a muffled grunt, Kuroro Lucifer drew an elaborate-looking dagger and drove it straight into the concrete roof. Not a moment too soon; he had barely gotten a steady hold on it before the chain jerked Kurapika out of his grip.

Now it was Kurapika's turn to clutch to the man's belt as the creature bucked and thrashed in mid-air. He spent a brief moment praying that he didn't accidentally yank the Spider's trousers off before he returned to the fight.

The panther was slowly but relentlessly making its way up the creature's back, clawing and tearing at its flesh as it did so. As it got within two feet of the creature's neck, it crouched down, powerful muscles bunching up, and pounced. A bestial roar shook the air as its jaws locked into the creature's neck. The creature screamed and thrashed violently, but the panther held on.

Kurapika, on the other hand, lost his grip, and slid down the length of the Spider beneath him before catching on to his ankle. A cold, powerful hand clamped onto his wrist as he did. "I told you not to let go," Kuroro Lucifer said through gritted teeth. "Grab on to my hand."

"No," Kurapika managed to gasp, shaking his head. He did not trust himself to have enough strength to let go and grab on again without being pulled straight off the roof.

Kuroro Lucifer frowned at him disapprovingly. "Alright," he said finally. "We're going for a ride then."

"Ride?" Kurapika gasped.

"I'm going to…" Kuroro Lucifer began to say, but whatever he was going to do was lost on Kurapika when the creature started to scream again, an agonized, terrified scream.

Both of them looked up to the sight of the tiny figure in its jaws jabbing violently at the creature's eyes. One eye was already put out, leaking yellow and green fluid, and the petite form was working relentlessly on the other eye.

"That's my Midoya," Kurapika heard the Spider say, and was shocked by how much affection was in that statement.

They saw the thin arm flail again and again, pummelling at the creature until suddenly, it released her.

"Midoya!" Kurapika cried even as the panther howled and leapt for her. He let the creature go and swung his chain about, desperately trying to catch her before she hit the ground.

A flare of Nen behind him – and suddenly both Midoya and the panther were lying before them.

Kurapika's eyes darted towards the Spider standing behind him, but all he saw was his Nen slowly settling down to its normal level. Ignoring him, Kuroro Lucifer walked swiftly up to Midoya and lifted her gently. "Midoya," he murmured gently. "Can you hear me?"

The panther came up to the still form and sniffed it with an air of suspicion. Kurapika drew up to its side and looked down at the tiny child Kuroro Lucifer was cradling. The fangs of the creature had torn through her clothes and into her flesh. A perfect semi-circle of deep fang-marks curved from her right shoulder to her knees. Blood was running out in copious quantities.

"Midoya," Kuroro Lucifer repeated. "Wake up."

The child's eyes fluttered weakly and she half-opened them. "Kuroro," she whispered. "Where were you? I was looking for you. I was so scared."

"You're never scared, Midoya," Kuroro Lucifer told her.

"Rubbish," she coughed. Then her eyes glided over to meet the panther's. Immediately, a faint smile curved her lips. "Kitty," she breathed painfully and tried to pat the panther's giant, blood-stained head.

"That's my Midoya," Kuroro Lucifer said fondly as the panther stared at the hand warily and tried to edge away. "Always treating dangerous, deadly creatures like pets."

That was not safe, Kurapika wanted to say. Panthers are deadly, fearsome predators, and human children are very fragile, vulnerable prey-like things. It was downright irresponsible to allow the child to grope at the panther like this. Kurapika stepped up to them and the Spider's eyes darted to him. "I can heal her," Kurapika told him coldly, deliberately nudging the panther away. "But only if she is not a Spider. Only if she's not one of yours."

"She is mine," Kuroro Lucifer replied with equal coldness, "but not a Spider. Will that do, chain-user?"

Kurapika tensed, feeling his eyes start to glow red – but the panther straightened up, jet-black eyes looking between the two of them meaningfully. With an irritated click of his tongue, Kurapika knelt down and summoned the Holy Chain. It settled gently against Midoya's chest and started to glow.

As he healed the silent child, Kuroro Lucifer murmured, "Well, we are in a bit of a conundrum, aren't we?"

"Are we?" Kurapika demanded brusquely.

"Yes," Kuroro Lucifer said mildly. "You want to kill me and I want to kill you. Yet we are stuck here in this… bizarre world with a defenceless Midoya whom we both want to protect. We have a common goal, chain-user. Now what shall we do about that?" He looked at Kurapika, and though there was absolutely no hostility in his expression, Kurapika still flinched back instinctively. The Spider smiled, faintly, cruelly, and turned to the panther. "And you," he said. "What are you, anyway? You are no ordinary panther. I can see that. So what are you?"

Something shifted in the panther's expression and it backed to about three feet away. It coughed once – and turned into a statue of pure silver. Kurapika blinked, startled. "What…?" he demanded and Kuroro Lucifer's eyebrows lifted slightly. The panther turned back to its normal self then coughed again. Abruptly, a white mist, barely distinguishable from the fog around them appeared. Then the panther reappeared. "What does that mean?" Kurapika wondered out loud. "I've never seen a panther that can use Nen."

"And you've never seen a panther that can understand human speech either," Kuroro Lucifer said bluntly. "That is obviously not an ordinary panther, as I have mentioned." He very kindly did not add 'moron'. Instead, he held out his hand to the panther. It padded over and nuzzled it. "This is… it must be, isn't it?" he murmured. "You are… some form of… of… Midoya."

Midoya? Kurapika opened his mouth to demand an explanation – but was shocked into silence when the Spider groaned softly as if in agony.

"Oh Midoya, I swear our relationship is not going to work out," Kuroro Lucifer said, sounding more agitated than Kurapika had ever heard him be. "I can bear you being a child. Yes, there is no way I'm having sex with you when you're not even old enough to menstruate, but I have excellent self-control and I can wait ten years or more if I need to. But a _panther_? Dear, I absolutely draw the line at that. I am _not_ having sex with a beast even if it is you. It's absolutely unthinkable."

As Kurapika gaped at the Spider, the panther made a chuffing sound that couldn't be anything but laughter. "You are _ridiculous_!" Kurapika snapped. "Your girlfriend is… is… in this state, yet the one thing you think about is _sex_? What kind of perverted sex maniac are you?"

"The kind she likes," Kuroro Lucifer replied smugly, even as he put his arm around the panther and buried his face in the scruff of its neck. "But no, jokes aside, you are Midoya and you aren't, just like this child, am I right?" The panther tilted its head at him. "Ah, but if my theory is right, it makes sense," the Spider went on, stroking the massive head. "Like this child here, you are a manifestation of a part of Midoya. From your demonstration of her powers, I'm assuming you are… you are… something like her Nen. The part of her that gave her the unique ability to wield her aura like a weapon. Oh, I'm starting to see where this is going. So far, all we've found are fragments of you. Little pieces, scattered everywhere. What we have to find is the centre, the core that is Midoya, don't we? That's the only way we are getting out of here."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Kurapika demanded and the Spider shot him another irritable look.

"Use your bain," he said. "Have you not noticed that we are in a dream, most likely Midoya's?"

"I did think of it when I saw those monsters," Kurapika shot back. "They're the kind of things people have nightmares about. Humans… but not humans. Monsters."

"Oh is it?" Now the Spider looked thoughtful. "I wish I had nightmares so I would know. Anyway, that's quite beside the point. What I have deduced so far goes like this: Midoya has been hit with a Nen curse. That curse has dragged her into a dream, and we, being close to her when the curse hit, were collateral damage. It'd taken me a while but I'm starting to see the shape of this curse. How does one keep a dreamer in a dream? By shutting down the conscious mind of course. If Midoya is unconscious, she cannot wake up. But then the subconscious or the unconscious, whatever you want to call it, starts to seep through. Parts of her, fragments of her personality, of her memories escape. You can't really shut them down. They are always there, always present, all these various desires and thoughts and neuroses. They influence, in the subtlest ways, our daily activities, but in this dream, with the core of Midoya's consciousness shut down… they have become more powerful, more tangible, more _formed_." He gave Kurapika a sharp look. "Even if unconscious, Midoya is still giving us clues in these two forms, so what we have to do to get out of this dream…"

"Is to find Midoya's consciousness," Kurapika concluded, and did his best to not feel so impressed by the train of logic. He paused. "Wait. 'We'? What makes you think I'm teaming up with _you_?"

Kuroro Lucifer smiled. "You are free to go off on your own, boy," he said condescendingly. "I wouldn't stop you or Midoya will be angry with me. She seems to have an illogically large degree of fondness for you." He patted the panther fondly and it purred. "Besides, when I said 'we', I was referring to me and both Midoyas here. So go off if you want to. It's not like Midoya means anything to you anyway."

Kurapika bit his lip and tried to do as he was being goaded to. But he couldn't – not least because _she_ was the key to getting out of here. Besides, he _did_ care. He had… well, not liked her when he first met her, but admired her, yes, respected her. She was, after all, someone who had taken on the Ryodan many times before. That was the kind of person he aspired to be.

Of course, she ended up dating their leader, which was not… was not what he wanted to end up… oh god… the images.

But that was beside the point. The point was, did all this mean he _had_ to team up with Kuroro Lucifer? No, he could not stand it, could not bear the thought of _helping _this man in any way whatsoever. Silently, he took the healing cross off Midoya and she opened her eyes to look at him.

"Come with me," he told her. "I'll get you out of here. You're not safe with Kuroro. He's a very dangerous man. He's an immoral bastard, a criminal, a murderer. He will turn on you at the drop of a pin."

The child hesitated and Kuroro Lucifer said, "You are my lover, Midoya, and this is the man who wants to kill me, to hurt my Ryodan. He has already killed two of my members. What makes you think he wouldn't kill you just to get back at me? Besides, you know me a lot better than you know him. You trust me more."

"I wouldn't _hurt_ Midoya! I wouldn't hurt a child!" Kurapika shouted furiously. "I am not that kind of person."

"No, you are the kind who likes beating up a helpless, bound man," Kuroro Lucifer sneered.

"You were _taunting_ me!"

"Oh, my apologies. You are the kind who likes beating up helpless, bound men just because they _taunted_ you."

"Stop it! Stop it!" Midoya said loudly and the frightened look on her face shut Kurapika up. Clumsily, she got back onto antelope-thin legs and stumbled away from them. "I don't like either of you," she said in a shaky voice. "The both of you are… _horrible_. The both of you glow like _monsters_!"

Abruptly, Kurapika realised that both his and Kuroro Lucifer's Nen were elevated, clashing against each other with Midoya caught in between. Even if she didn't know any Nen… no, _precisely_ because she didn't know any Nen, the sensation of their mutual hatred rushing over her must have felt as terrifying and as suffocating as a tsunami.

"I am very sorry," he began saying but she shook her head.

"I don't like either of you," she repeated. "I don't want to be with either of you. The both of you can just go away."

Kuroro Lucifer frowned. "You're being irrational, Midoya," he said. "Who is going to protect you if you don't stick with at least one of us?"

Midoya stuck her tongue out at him. "Kitty will protect me," she said and threw her arms around the panther. "I'm going to stick with Kitty." Her eyes lit up suddenly. "I think I will call you 'Poe-chan'," she declared brightly. "Because you are a black kitty, just like in Poe's story." She beamed widely and snuggled into the midnight fur. "Don't worry; _I_ wouldn't wall you up with a corpse. You're too pretty to be walled up alive."

"That is _not_ a kitty," Kurapika protested but she ignored him.

"It _is_," Midoya said insistently. "It is _my_ kitty. Go away. I don't want you. And I don't want Kuroro either. Go away." With a loud sniffle, she buried her face into the scruff of the panther's neck.

The panther looked back at them and large, jet-black eyes practically begged them to do something about the child messing up its fur.

Wordlessly, Kuroro Lucifer reached out and ruffled the panther's head. "Alright, I'll go with you and Poe-chan," he said soothingly (the panther shot him a scathing glare). "We'll do what you want." He paused. "What exactly do you want anyway?" he asked. "You don't really want me to go away, right?"

"I don't know what I want," Midoya mumbled into the panther's neck, her voice muffled and sad.

Kuroro Lucifer sighed, rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Alright," he conceded resignedly. "Alright. I give up." Getting up, he looked down at Kurapika with a quietly thoughtful look on his face. "We work together."

Kurapika glared. "Under what conditions?"

"First, this… _truce_ only lasts until an hour after we return from this dream-scape. No more, no less. After that, we are back to being enemies and I will find you and kill you and enjoy it very much."

"Agreed," Kurapika said hatefully. "Second, the terms of this truce. We will not attack each other physically. No injuring, hurting or killing each other for the period of this truce. We will cooperate as much as possible and within our limits to bring Midoya back to normality, and thus us back to reality."

"Agreed." Kuroro Lucifer paused and added, "Third, both Midoya and the panther are the priority. If I have to sacrifice you in order to save them, I will. You may do the same in return. I'm not stupid enough to ask for any degree of loyalty from you."

Kurapika gritted his teeth, because that was what he hated most about the Spiders. "Agreed," he said and tried to think of more conditions.

"Fourthly," Kuroro Lucifer went on, "when I tell you to do something, you will not argue with me, contradict me, or generally waste a lot of time unless you genuinely feel I am making a mistake. We don't have time for petty arguments during crucial moments."

"Alright. Fifthly," Kurapika said immediately, his eyes glowing red, "you will reciprocate that gesture."

"I have no issue with that," Kuroro Lucifer said calmly. "Any other terms?"

Kurapika hesitated again, wrecking his brain to think of any other clauses he could add to their agreement – but his mind came up blank. "None," he said reluctantly.

"Very well then," Kuroro Lucifer said with a quick nod. "Let's get going then; I would like to have my Midoya back to normal as soon as possible."

"Fine." Kurapika strode up to the Spider and got straight into his face. "But remember this: break this agreement and I will kill you immediately."

Kuroro Lucifer shrugged. "If you can," he said. "Now get a move on it."

This was obviously not going to be… not going to be easy. He really, really wanted to take a swing at that bastard, but a tiny voice in his head told him to just turn his back on that… him. Just turn his back. That was the right thing to do.

Taking a deep breath to calm the fury building up in him, Kurapika turned on his heels and started to power walk his anger away. By god, if that Spider gave him one reason, even one stupid, tiny reason to break the agreement…

A sensation of ice and steel in his chest stopped him short. Startled, Kurapika cupped his hand to his chest and was even more surprised when it came away warm. He raised his hand to his eyes and found red staring back.

"Wh…?" Wide-eyed, he touched the green blade protruding out of his chest. "H… how…?"

The rot spread quickly through his chest, turning his skin to parchment and his bones to dust. His flesh fell off in dry, brittle clumps. Desperately, he tried to hold his skin to his bones, but discovered he had no hands. His breath came in panicked gasps as he hunched over, curling into himself – and he watched his eyeball plop out of its socket and drop onto the ground with a wet, foul sound. With a groan, Kurapika toppled over as his entire body collapsed into dust on the ground.

And then he woke up.

* * *

"What?" Kuroro asked mildly, as he closed his book. "You didn't really expect me to keep my word, did you? Poor boy should have known better than to turn his back on me. Poor, stupid boy."

* * *

The penthouse was quiet, unnaturally so. Even though the lift had already dinged open, Pariston Hill remained standing in it for a second as he sent his senses out. Despite the silence, there were two distinct presences in the room. That would have been what he had expected – only one of these presences was somewhat… unfamiliar to him.

Quietly but confidently, Pariston strode into the penthouse until the two – no three – bodies came into view. There was Kuroro Lucifer, infamous Dancho of the Genei Ryodan, sprawled on the floor in an incongruously cute pink apron. Next to him was Midoya Kito, precious, entertaining little Midoya, whose presence he had not sensed since she appeared to be in Zetsu. Lastly, a short distance away, lay a young man in a suit that screamed 'mafia'.

Ignoring the men, Pariston knelt down beside Midoya and regarded her with a pensive look. After a second, he gently brushed her hair away from her neck to reveal the tiny insect stuck behind her ear. It looked no bigger than most ticks and it pulsed with a dark and disturbing Nen. Pariston ignored it. Instead, he reached for Midoya's right hand and moved it. As he did, something metallic fell out of her sleeve. A tiny blade, no longer than an inch, obviously designed to main rather than kill. But she hadn't drawn that blade to fight. No, she had drawn it to leave a message. Right under her hand, scratched into the marble of her floor, were the letters 'D' and what Pariston knew was an incomplete 'I'.

Pariston chuckled. So she had recognised what had hit her, had recognised it and tried to leave a message, for her lover perhaps, before she went under. Well, of course she would recognise it - she had invented it after all.

Suddenly, the young blonde man stirred. "Muh… my… eye… I…" he whispered helplessly as he started to rise to consciousness. "I'll kill… whuh… what?" Bland grey eyes blinked with disorientation. "Wh… where…?" He blinked again and Pariston stepped up to him.

"Hello boy," he said, smiling widely at the confused look on the child's face. "Welcome back to reality, where the monsters are bigger, and eviller, and so much scarier. Now, would you like a cup of tea?"

* * *

Normally, there were some things Kuroro would never allow himself to be caught doing. Some were habits that he had acquired through a life-long career as a bandit, such as never sleeping deeply in front of anyone he didn't trust fully and never consuming food or beverages offered by people who weren't the Ryodan or Midoya. Others were things he simply did not do because it was rude and offensive, such as picking his nose in public or walking down a crowded street with a bloody machete in his hand asking random strangers whether he could cut out their livers and eat them with a nice glass of chianti.

Now he had one more thing to add to his list: walking down the deserted dream-scape of Midoya's mind while trying to convince a stubborn child that murdering that bastard chain-user had been the right thing to do.

"Why don't you understand?" Kuroro demanded in frustration as they walked down the strangely foggy York Shin streets of Midoya's mind. "That boy is a danger to you and me."

"He already agreed to work with us," Midoya replied, her arms folded against her chest as her jaw set in that stubborn way Kuroro was entirely not used to.

"Yes, so did I and I turned on him easily enough," Kuroro repeated for what had to be the tenth time. "That boy is mafia, is dangerous and he murdered two of our _friends_. Why can't you get that past that thick skull you call your head?"

Midoya's lips turned out in a pout. "Why are you so mean to me?" she demanded, eyes filling with tears. "I thought you're my boyfriend?"

"I'm not your…" Kuroro glanced down at the tears making wobbly tracks down thin, emaciated cheeks. "Fine, I'm sorry," he said.

"I don't forgive you."

"That's impossible, Midoya. You always forgive… ouch!" Kuroro glared at Poe-chan who glared back with equal intensity. "Alright, alright," Kuroro muttered. "I am truly sorry, dear. Wouldn't you please forgive me?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"Uh uh."

Kuroro sighed again and gave up. "Are you tired?" he asked instead. "Shall I carry you?"

"I don't want you to carry me," Midoya announced. "I still don't like you at all. If I'm to be carried, I want Poe-chan to carry me."

Poe-chan gave a huff that suggested she was certain this was entirely his fault. Kuroro replied with a sigh that said he certainly didn't think that was true and that she shouldn't be cruel to him since he was suffering from a bad case of separation anxiety here. Midoya was his lover; she wasn't supposed to not want to touch him, even if she couldn't remember being his lover. Poe-chan, in turn, huffed what sounded like derisive laughter at him then fell silent.

"Poe-chan is not designed for riding, dear. Her anatomy is all wrong. If you're tired I'll carry you, Kuroro said, hoping that would remind her she wasn't supposed to dislike him.

"No, I don't like you."

"I'm starting to think killing the chain-user is not worth this trouble," Kuroro muttered. "It's still quite a far walk, I must warn you. We are heading to the…"

"Red light district, I know," Midoya replied, turning her nose up at him.

"An obvious choice since you own it," Kuroro commented and saw her stumble in surprise. "What? You did not know? Then why are you so certain we are headed there?"

"Father owns a few brothels there," Midoya told him. "The _Velvet House_ and two other smaller ones. I thought you were going to visit them because of that."

"Oh. Well, you own those brothels now, plus about fifty more of them. Sorry, forty-seven. A mad maniac transvestite who thought you were blackmailing him blew up two of them, including the _Velvet House_. I blew up the last one." He paused thoughtfully. "It's only a small one and I didn't kill anyone."

Midoya stared at him. "Why would you do that?" she asked. "Who were you trying to murder this time?"

"Oh shut up, I was trying to be romantic," Kuroro replied, aggrieved. "How was I to know that the hot burning things people mention in love poems and songs didn't actually refer to dynamite? If it didn't, they shouldn't have mentioned bursting hearts and exploding passions at all. It's misleading and teaches the young people of our generation the _wrong_ things." Silence greeted his statement which Kuroro took to be acceptance of his explanation. Poe-chan's snort was definitely in no way mocking or amused at all.

Midoya cleared her throat. "Anyway," she said, "you mentioned that we should visit places significant to me. But I have a question about that: do we visit places significant to adult-me or child-me? There are places I've never been to before of course, not at this age. Presumably, the places that matter to adult-me also differ from the places that matter to child-me. So which should we go to?"

"Excellent question," Kuroro said approvingly. "We start with places the both of you have in common," he suggested. "If we can't find anything then we'll move on to somewhere else that is important to adult-Midoya." He paused in thought. "I am not terribly familiar with things important to you though," he mused. "We'll have to try our luck with what I _do_ know." He rubbed his chin absent-mindedly. "What we know now is that both you and adult-Midoya have the _Velvet House _in common. I know the _Velvet House_ is one of the primary bases Midoya works out of when she's running her sex business, and you are aware of its existence. That is as good a place to start as any, provided it exists in this world. In the real world, the Zoldycks blew it to the ground while we were in it. We escaped by sliding down the side of the building, which I must tell you, Midoya, were admirably clean."

Midoya was silent for a moment. Then she asked, with a note of horrified fascination in her voice, "How on earth do the two of us actually… work? As a couple, I mean. You know almost nothing about me, and I'm willing to bet I hardly know anything about you. You blow up my buildings. I try to kill you. How does this work at all?"

"Good sex solves everything."

"If it did, there wouldn't be so many wars and conflicts in this world."

"Or maybe not everyone is as good at sex as they should be."

"That is so wrong, and you shouldn't be mentioning that word in front of me. I'm only eight."

"And what word might that be?"

Before Midoya could respond, a strange shadow suddenly swept over them, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise – and they were suddenly not in York Shin anymore.

Next to him, Poe-chan dropped into a fighting crouch, her fangs bared in a warning growl. Midoya, who had been holding a handful of Poe-chan's fur, immediately grabbed onto the hem of his coat with her free hand. That made him feel slightly better about everything.

"Where are we? What is happening?" she asked in a soft, tensed whisper.

Those were extremely pertinent questions, so Kuroro took a long look around him. Instead of the foggy, metropolitan that is York Shin City, they appeared to now be in a desert. Miles upon miles of endless grey sand stretched out before them underneath the midnight sky, lit only by a large, white moon. Yet, there seemed to be something surreal about the dessert. The dunes were too perfect, the air too stagnant, and the moon too large and bright in the perfectly black sky. Not a star twinkled in its darkness, no animal twitched beneath the sands. The entire place was so still it looked like a sculpture.

"It's suffocating," Midoya whispered, holding on tightly to his coat, and Kuroro agreed. Despite the openness of the place, there was something stifling about it, as if this desert had no atmosphere, no oxygen, nothing to support the living. "How did we get here? Where did the city go to?"

"This is a dream," Kuroro pointed out. "Settings change and morph all the time in dreams."

"Yes, but why now?" the Midoya asked, quite reasonably. "I don't like this, Kuroro. I'm scared."

Poe-chan huffed suddenly, her great head lowered to the fine, matte sand. Kuroro bent down to see what had caught the panther's attention.

"Footprints," he noted. "Footprints in the sand. Leading off in that direction." He pointed.

Midoya glanced at the sand then hesitantly placed a skinny foot next to one of the prints. "It's just a bit bigger than mine," she said. "A child's?"

"Or a very small person," Kuroro agreed. He touched one of the footprints. "Good soles," he observed. "Expensive shoes. I can't tell if they're masculine or feminine ones. Not a very big stride, so we're thinking of a relatively short person. Hmm? What's this?" Next to the set of clear, distinct footprints was… an imprint in the sand. It didn't look like tracks; rather, it seemed that the person who made the prints might have been dragging something heavy beside him or her.

"Should we follow the prints?" Midoya asked hesitantly.

Kuroro glanced at the tracks then across the infinite miles of sand. "Since this is your dream, we'll go with what you decide, Midoya," he said.

Midoya looked at him then at Poe-chan, and bit her lip. "Alright," she said finally. "Let's go."

So they set off, trekking slowly through the ultra-fine grey sand.

Now, given that Meteor City is largely a radioactive desert, Kuroro has plenty of experience navigating dry, arid, open lands. He knew what to expect: the scorching heat in the day and the numbing chill at night, the uneven ground beneath the feet, and the harsh, gritty wind that seems intent on throwing the entire desert into your face.

However, this dream-desert was nothing like that. Instead of extreme heat or dry cold, the temperature in this place was flat and humid, as if they were trapped in a room with no windows and no doors. The sand beneath their feet shifted, causing them to sink up to their knees at certain points. After almost losing Midoya to the landscape a couple of times, Kuroro had taken to letting her sit on his shoulders. The sand itself was odd enough. For one thing, it appeared completely flat and matte, as if it were finely-milled granite rather than crystals. In fact, the sand didn't even seem to resemble 'sand'. It was not rough and gritty, but so incredibly fine that it didn't seem to cause any friction at all. Even with all his years of reading, Kuroro wasn't quite sure how to describe them. The best example he could think of was that they felt like the kind of powders Midoya puts all over her face after applying foundation.

Even more strange was how the footprints remained so clear and distinct in this incredibly fine sand.

"It's like… it's set in time," Midoya said suddenly. "The footprints. Like they are… imprinted onto the very fabric of time and space, thus they cannot be removed, changed or… altered."

Beside him, Poe-chan kicked sand over one of the footprints. The sand that fell into the print melted away from it, leaving the contours of the print as smooth and untouched as before.

"I think you may have a point, Midoya," Kuroro, who had been watching the mini-experiment, said. "Now let's follow these points and see where they lead us to."

"Or to whom," Midoya added. "Look."

Across the sands, not too far from them, was a lone figure slowly but steadily moving across the barren landscape. Though the figure should be too far away for them to see clearly, they could see every detail on her (_it was definitely a her_). She was not tall, probably just a few inches taller than child-Midoya. A long cloak of some animal hide covered her body, and a hood of the same material was pulled over her head. Wrapped around her nose and mouth was a dirty, sand-stained scarf,

"Who is that?" Midoya asked.

Kuroro shrugged. "Let's find out," he said. Raising a hand in the air, he waved it and shouted, "Hello!"

The figure stopped and turned around, body language tensed and surprised. But she did not reply. Instead, she pulled the scarf down as she looked about and they got a good look at her face.

A young girl in her early teens. Midoya in her early teens.

"Oh my…" child-Midoya gasped and clutched at his hair painfully.

Kuroro didn't scold her because he was too busy being shocked. At an age somewhere below fifteen and above ten, Midoya looked startlingly different from both her adult and child self. Her skin was still clear but she had obviously started to put on the weight she would wear as a grown-up, and her eyes had gained a clarity the child's didn't. They were sharp and alert, but lacking in that sardonic gleam that Kuroro found so appealing in his Midoya.

Teen-Midoya pulled back her hood as well, still looking around. "Who's there?" she asked.

"Kuroro," Kuroro replied.

To his surprise, she merely tilted her head left and right, as if confused.

Then out of nowhere, a voice asked, "What is it?"

A shiver actually ran down Kuroro's spine and he saw Poe-chan shudder. For the voice that spoke was so evil it seemed to taint their very souls. It sounded like a million puppies being slaughtered, a thousand babies being skinned alive. It sounded like blood and innards and terror – and even Kuroro's hardened heart was disturbed.

Like a giant slug, a shape rose from the sand next to teen-Midoya. Thin, wiry arms lifted a drooping bald head topped by a knot of hair. Next to it, a second shape rose, aged legs flopping around beneath a pair of green spandex.

Netero. Netero torn in half, blood and bile dripping from every orifice.

"Oh!" Midoya whispered and buried her face into his hair with a shudder.

Wordlessly, Kuroro dragged both her and Poe-chan into the sand. "Let's hide and observe," he whispered, and heard Midoya give a soft sob.

"What is it?" the monster asked again.

"I thought I heard a voice, sensei," teen-Midoya replied.

Netero cackled, spilling black blood down his matted, yellow-stained beard. "There is no one out here but us, Midoya," he said in that same voice. "We are alone. You must be… dreaming."

Teen-Midoya frowned slightly. "I am certain I am not…"

The monster lifted a bloodied hand and jabbed a finger sporting a torn nail into the distance. "You are training now, Midoya," he told her. "Training to be the best, remember? Do not get distracted."

Teen-Midoya frowned more but nodded. "Of course," she said and turned to continue walking.

"Good, good," Netero hissed and both halves of him started to slide along beside her. "You can be strong, Midoya," he whispered, his voice as soft as velvet and as tempting as the devil's. "I know you can. How long have we walked now?"

"An entire life-time," Midoya replied without any trace of irony in her voice.

"I see," Netero chuckled. "Why do you never ask when we will reach our destination?"

"Not that eager to reach the end yet, nor eager to know when that will be," Midoya replied as she started to walk again. "I still have things I want to do before I die."

And Netero cackled laughter in her face. "You will die before you can finish everything you want to do," he hissed, spitting blood in her face.

Midoya nodded. "Then I better get down to it," she said solemnly. Ignoring the still cackling Netero, she started on down the sand, her tiny feet leaving perfect footprints in the sand.

Behind them, Kuroro frowned. "Something is going on here," the he muttered. "That Netero… no, that isn't Netero, is it? It's just like those beasts we fought back in York Shin, the beasts with human faces. He's a… a nightmare. A monster."

"Why is she not fighting it?" Midoya demanded. "Why does she allow it to walk beside her?"

"Maybe…" Kuroro glanced at the child next to him. "Maybe she doesn't realise it's a monster."

"How can she not?" Midoya argued. "Just look at it!"

Kuroro shrugged. "Not all that looks like monsters are, and not all that are look like monsters."

"Like you, you mean?"

"Exactly like me." Kuroro smiled. "And you."

Midoya turned her nose up at him "We should follow them," she whispered. "Come on!" She took two clumsy steps forward then gave up and climbed onto Poe-chan. "Giddy-up," she ordered solemnly and Poe-chan set off with a resigned huff. With Poe-chan's dark fur and Midoya covered with his black shirt, they looked like nothing more than a shadow floating across the grey sands.

"Well," Kuroro mused, as he stared after the admiringly well-camouflaged duo, "at least she's gaining back some of her courage." Following her example, he dropped to a low crouch and started to walk after them.

Ahead, teen-Midoya glanced behind again, her eyes reflecting suspicion and wariness, yet not seeing them at all even though she was clearly visible to them.

"You imagine there are more monsters than there really are," Netero said, and hacked out of a gob of bloody phlegm.

"There are always more monsters than there appear to be," teen-Midoya replied.

Netero's mouth split in a gory smile. "But you have more friends too," he said. "Leora. Pariston."

Unexpectedly, teen-Midoya's eyes softened. "Yes, of course," she admitted readily. "I have missed them. I haven't seen them since we started this training."

In front of them, Poe-chan growled suddenly. All of them stopped and stared at the animal, but there was no aggression in her body language – only anger, a strange, pent-up, repressed anger.

"Yes," Netero said. "Leora and Pariston. Good children them, as twisted are you are, my dearest disciple."

"Monsters stick together," teen-Midoya replied with a shrug. "There are few children in this world as… odd as the three of us."

"Indeed," Netero chuckled. "A murderer, a witch and a demon. Good company."

"Excellent company," teen-Midoya said. "Imagine the conversations we have."

From the sand around them, two other shapes rose. Kuroro recognised one of them. Pariston, almost as young as teen-Midoya, with the slenderness of youth and the missing scalp of a dead person. Silently, he loped along beside Midoya like a pale wraith, his exposed brain jiggling with each step he took. The other figure wasn't anyone Kuroro had seen before. It was a child, perhaps younger than the Midoya and Pariston in front of them, short, pale and so emaciated Kuroro could see every single rib on her chest. She was stark naked save for the white strip of cloth she wore around her swollen belly. Her hair was dark, long and stringy, hanging over a face marked by a wide, thin-lipped mouth and incongruously lovely eyes. Large, almond-shaped and framed by dark lashes, the violet eyes stared out into the dark desert with a ravenous hunger.

"Who is that?" Midoya asked, pulling on Kuroro's sleeve. "Who are they?"

In reply, Poe-chan whined a soft, sad whine and made a noise that sounded like a child's cry of pain.

Gently, Kuroro reached out and stroked Poe-chan's head. "You know who she is, Midoya?" he murmured.

"I don't," the child replied.

"I meant Poe-chan." Kuroro continued stroking the giant head. "You know her."

And Poe-chan moaned as if her heart was broken. Abruptly, she broke into a run, tumbling child-Midoya off her back as she ran towards the quartet in front.

"Poe…" Midoya made an attempt to reach the giant cat but Kuroro pulled her back.

"Wait, watch," he told her.

Together, they watched Poe-chan ran up to the strange girl and press against her as if she meant to tunnel into her. The girl glanced down at her and patted her head gently. "I missed you too," she said in a breathy voice. "I missed you a lot."

Poe-chan whined.

"You broke your promise," she said, and Poe-chan's whine grew louder.

"You broke your promise to me," she said. "You liar."

The whine grew into a howl and the Midoya got to her feet. "Enough," she cried, though Kuroro could not tell who she was addressing, and stumbled towards the howling beast. "Stop it!"

Teen-Midoya's head snapped towards her, her eyes wide with alarm. "Enemies!" she shouted. "We are under attack!"

Midoya skidded to a stop. "No! Wait, I am not…"

"Take arms! Take arms!" Teen-Midoya shouted. "Fight!"

Her cry echoed impossibly through the entire desert – and the land shuddered in response like a living organism. The sand dunes around them started to pulsate like an infected wound, greenish pus squirting out from the multiple holes that have appeared in the sand.

Child-Midoya uttered a soft cry of breathless panic and threw herself against Kuroro's leg to avoid the holes popping out from beneath him like grotesque acne. "Kuroro!" she cried, reaching out for him. "Trouble! We're in trouble!"

"Indeed, we are," Kuroro agreed. "I can't remember where this came from."

Midoya stared at him. "What?" she demanded.

"This is familiar," Kuroro said, waving the hand that was not holding Midoya vaguely at their surroundings. "I am certain I have seen this somewhere before."

"Where on the good, green earth would look like this?" Midoya demanded incredulously.

"Well likely…" A thin bony hand erupted from one of the pus-filled holes, clutching what looked like a short scythe. "… a movie," Kuroro finished.

As they watched, more bony hands started to emerge from the holes, waving around scythes, daggers or just their clawed fingers.

"What sort of movie is this?" Midoya gasped, burying her face in his thigh.

"Likely the sort you like," Kuroro said matter-of-factly. "It's obviously a horror film and I'm not the one who has watched all thirteen sequels to that movie about that serial killer who is, I must point out, so terribly slow it shouldn't be that difficult to…"

"Kuroro!" Midoya cried, interrupting him. "Focus! On! Them!" She pointed with urgency at the quartet advancing on them: Netero, Pariston and the strange girl, with Midoya in the lead.

Her dark eyes fixed on them over the scarf covering her face. "Kill them," she said coldly. "Kill them all."

"Right," Kuroro said sagely. "I see your point. That is somewhat important. We should follow Midoya's lead and take arms." Swiftly, he drew his poisonous katana, its green glow mirroring the greenish pus spilling about their feet.

Teen-Midoya raised an arm and molten silver spilled over it like liquid moonlight. Her eyes glowed with the same silver as she pounded towards them, easily traversing the pus-drenched sands. With a start, Kuroro realised her form was an incomplete version of her Yang form. This was Midoya before she had become a Nen-master.

As Kuroro was still marvelling over that fact, Midoya reached him and swung a silver fist at him. Kuroro dodged it, pulling child-Midoya back with him as he did. "Now Midoya," he said calmly. "You may not know who we are, but let me assure you that we are not…"

The silver fist connected with his stomach and all the breath rushed out of him. Incomplete as it may be, her punch was still powerful enough to stun him for a second. She would have followed up with a punch from her normal fist, but Kuroro managed to dodge it again – only to step right into a puddle of pus.

A bony hand clamped with startling strength around his ankle and yanked him knee-deep into the slimy, green liquid. A foul smell, reminiscent of Meteor City after months of no rain, gushed over him in a blast of warm air and Kuroro choked on his own tongue.

"Kuroro!" child-Midoya cried out as teen-Midoya made a grab for her.

Kuroro twitched around and somehow managed to catch her before she stumbled and fell into a pool of greenish pus of her own. Before he could celebrate, young-Pariston came up to him, hands empty and a cherubic smile on his face. Scowling, Kuroro swiped at the exposed brain with his katana, but the young boy danced away, laughing silently.

Child-Midoya screamed, but before Kuroro could see what had happened, he found himself facing down Netero's upper body lunging at him with a hearty laugh. The stick-thin arms whirled, and Kuroro ended up staring at what appeared to be a thousand palms rushing towards him.

Dropping his katana, Kuroro used his fists to deflect the palms as they slammed into his defences, drawing bruises and blood. Netero cackled again and Kuroro kicked him in the face with his free leg. The bony hand decided to make itself felt at that moment, by wrenching painfully on his ankle. As Netero's upper body was still recovering from the kick, Kuroro picked up his katana and sliced the hand off. It disappeared into the pus with a distant shriek.

Shuddering, Kuroro leapt out of the pus-pit and picked child-Midoya up from where she had fallen. Teen-Midoya immediately came for him, her eyes blazing silver.

"Midoya! Stop this!" he snapped, but she ignored him.

"Enemy," she snarled. "Kill h…" She broke off in mid-sentence when Kuroro, fed up with this nonsense, kicked her in the face.

As teen-Midoya fell over, clutching what must be a broken nose, Kuroro turned in the general direction of where the big cat had been last seen. "We leave! Now!" he shouted. "Move! Poe!"

Abruptly child-Midoya's scream, loud and shrill pierced through the air. "Poe-chan!" she screamed. "Poe-chan!"

Kuroro's eyes widened as he finally saw the great beast. It was lying still in a puddle of pus as several bony hands pulled it slowly down.

"Save her!" child-Midoya screamed. "Save her!"

Grimly, Kuroro whipped out his book to summon his teleportation skill – but a tiny, cold hand closed in around his wrist. Suddenly, it was almost as if all the energy had been drained out of him. His book flickered in his hand then disappeared entirely. His arms went limp as he dropped child-Midoya onto the sand. His knees buckled and he knelt down. The pus ate into his trousers and it took all he had to not fall over on his face.

Dazedly, he tried to look around and found himself staring into large, insane, beautiful violet eyes.

"Get out," the girl said, her voice as hypnotic and as alluring as madness, "get out! You do not belong here. Out!"

Kuroro tried to shake his head but found himself falling over instead. "You get out…" he managed to whisper.

The girl's eyes widened – then she screamed when child-Midoya slashed at her wildly with a thin, sharp throwing-knife. Her cold hand lifted off his and suddenly, it was like all the energy in the world had rushed back into his veins.

"Kuroro!" child-Midoya cried, reaching for him. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her out of reach of that insane little girl who seemed to be sucking the life out of anything that touched her. "Poe-chan's gone! I couldn't… I saw…"

Kuroro didn't bother to look over at where the giant cat had been. If Midoya said the cat was gone, it probably was. "We leave," he said, stepping back quickly from the army advancing on them. "Go!"

They ran as fast as they could, leaping around pus-pits and dodging both the hands and the people chasing them. It never seemed to end. No matter where they stepped, more pus-pits erupted. No matter how fast they ran, the people came after them with murder in their eyes. But they had no choice so they ran and they ran, as fast as they could, ignoring the way their muscles burned and their lungs seemed ready to burst.

They ran and they ran and they ran.

Until the ground beneath them disappeared.

For a split second, it was like a scene out of one of those old cartoons Midoya sometimes watches. One moment there was sand and pus beneath their feet, the next, there was none. Yet, inertia threw them forward a couple more feet, out of the grasp of the monsters chasing after them.

Suspended in mid-air, Kuroro's eyes met Midoya's for a brief second.

"You are really almost not worth the trouble," he told her.

"Meanie," Midoya sobbed – and they fell into nothingness.

Only to land together on a bed of soft, green grass.

* * *

"_Masks in dreams are very interesting things. They hide, they conceal, yet they expose and reveal. Every face you see in a dream is a mask. It hides and exposes what you least want to know – that if you tear the skin off every monster in your dream, you will find your own face smiling back at you."_

"_The Inaccessible Unconscious"_


	5. Preta

A/N: Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter and the late upload. It's been a crappy week which has resulted in a crappy chapter. Yeah. Crappy. Sorry.

Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter, _Logic of Sense_, and any other books/movies/songs etc referenced in this story (other than _The Inaccessible Unconscious_) do not belong to me.

* * *

_Preta_

The stillness of the penthouse broke when one of the prone figures stirred and groaned.

Pariston Hill looked up from his clasped hands. It wasn't the dark-haired man cuffed and thrown carelessly onto the floor, his limbs twisted at awkward angles. It was the figure lying on the couch with her head on his lap that had moved.

As he watched, her lips parted and she exhaled softly. A puff of white fog whispered into the air and the cracks in her lips filled with molten silver as it leaked out of her mouth. Intrigued, he reached out and touched the liquid metal running down her chin with the tip of his finger. It burned unexpectedly with a cold heat and Pariston sucked in a breath of surprised pain. Carefully, he rubbed his fingers together, smearing the liquid over his skin. Everywhere it touched, icy pricks of discomfort dug into his skin like frozen hooks. He stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked the liquid off. It tasted like blood on his tongue, salty, metallic and organic. Pulling his finger out, he regarded it curiously. His skin had turned red and would likely blister.

Idly, he touched a pale, acne-scarred cheek with that finger. The skin around her scars was surprisingly smooth, delicate even, like powdered silk, contrasting directly with the rough, uneven infected skin. He stroked her cheek gently and accidentally ran a nail over a pimple. Blood leaked out of the tiny wound and made him want to scratch her again.

"Stop it," a quiet, angry voice said, "you are hurting her."

Fascination broken, Pariston looked up at the pretty blonde man cuffed spread-eagle over Midoya's coffee table. "Oh, you are finally lucid," he said, smiling sweetly. "You were rambling maniacally for a while just now. It was quite hard to get any sense out of you. No matter; would you like your tea now?"

"Tea?" the young man demanded indignantly. "I'm less concerned about tea and more worried about why I am… I am tied up. Why have you restrained me? What is going on here?"

"Questions, questions, questions," Pariston murmured, tenderly wiping the blood off her face. "What a curious little boy."

"Answer me," the young man said tensely. "Why am I tied up like this?"

Pariston smiled, amused despite himself. "Because I know who you are and thus I know I cannot trust you around him. Kuroro Lucifer. He is Midoya's lover, as you know," he replied, gently prodding the unconscious man with his toe. "It's important he stays alive and you are… not good for the life spans of these Spiders. Oh, don't look so surprised. Your killing of two Spiders is… well, it's a rather public secret among some circles. We very much prefer to know when someone like you, someone… dangerous, is on the hunt."

The young man stared at him, one brown contact slipping slightly to reveal a tea-green eye. "Why?" he demanded. "Why would you protect _him_? You know who he is! You know… _what_ he is! Why?"

"Because she reached out for him. In that moment before she went under, when she sensed she was under attack, even figured out what the attack was. But of course she would, since she invented this herself. So in that moment, she instinctively sought him out, wrapping her Nen around his as much to protect him as to seek protection from him." The gentle prod turned into a kick hard enough to probably leave a bruise. "They're tied together now. Bonded, if you will. It wouldn't be good… to mess with a bond like that. The backlash of breaking it would probably destroy her mind entirely and his too. He needs to be released from her gently, carefully. It's very much like giving birth to a child. You don't just yank the infant out; you let the mother push it out at her own pace. It's the only way to ensure they both come back alive and well."

The young man drew in a soft breath of surprise. "How would you know this? How could you know all this?" he demanded though he must know. "You sound like you know what is happening to them. To Midoya. To that Spider. You sound like you know about the… the dreams. The nightmares."

"Ah," Pariston sighed wistfully. "Dreams. Nightmares. Open skulls and fog within our empty spaces. Yes, I know quite a bit about that."

"How?" the young man asked, straining to look up at him despite the awkward angle. "How could you possibly know everything about this? Tell me!"

"Oh, I know a lot of things," Pariston replied, smiling. "But not everything. No one really knows everything, not even her. Now, you've been very impressed by what I do know. Shall I impress you with what I _don't_? Wouldn't you like to find out what I would want to know this every moment?"

Now the young man looked wary, his eyes darting around the room urgently, yet always returning to stare at Pariston. "What?" he asked finally.

"Why, that should be obvious," Pariston said, highly amused. "What I would like to know is what I should do with _you_, little mafia boy." Still smiling, he approached the now wide-eyed boy and leaned close to him, so close he could smell the boy's fear. "So," he smiled. "Any suggestions?"

* * *

For a moment, Kuroro could only stare at Midoya staring back at him.

The fall had been… long. They had dropped a very long time. From a very high place. Down what seemed like unending space. Yet, they had landed with nary a shock on what appeared to be a nice cushion of thick, lush grass. Every fibre of his being, so attuned to real, _proper_ physics, rebelled at that sensation or lack of, and made his stomach feel queasy.

Slowly but steadily, he straightened up from his crouch and lowered Midoya to the ground. She glanced up at him, her eyes wet and red, then looked away.

Oh dear.

"There was no way to save Poe," Kuroro said to her, but she refused to look at him. Getting on his knees, he gently turned Midoya's head until she was looking at him. "There was no way," he said calmly. "You know that."

The child was quiet for a while. "Yes," she said finally. "I know." Tiredly, she wiped at her eyes. "It's alright," she mumbled, so softly Kuroro almost couldn't hear her. "I'm used to… losing everything. It's normal for me. Normal."

"Yes," Kuroro agreed. "That's what makes you so strong."

She blinked in surprise and stared at him for a moment. "I don't understand you sometimes," she said. "I wish you would decide if you're going to be mean to me or not."

Kuroro shrugged. "I don't like being categorised," he said in way of explanation. "Besides, that's not important. Does this place look familiar to you at all?"

Midoya looked around at the landscape and Kuroro joined her. As far as he could tell, this new dreamscape seemed to be made of lush grass, thick green forests and plenty of hilly areas. It was somewhat like Hun, only without the humidity and heat. Cool mist rolled gently around the trees instead, suggesting they were some metres above sea-level. It was as far a cry from the previous dreamscape as was possible. Kuroro could almost see cartoon princesses frolicking among the foliage and singing to pretty, tweeting birds.

"No," Midoya said finally. "I don't know this place."

"Well then," Kuroro said, "I assume this place hasn't become significant to you _yet_." At the look on her face, he sighed. "Come on now, it must be obvious by now. There is a logic here. We are moving through places or events that mean something to you. Make no mistake, I don't doubt that some of the scenes we have seen are metaphors rather than literal accounts of what actually happened, but they must signify something important to you."

"So the previous dreamscape…"

"Netero, Pariston and this… Leora," Kuroro agreed. "Obviously they are people of some importance to you. Netero, I know, you loved and admired. Pariston… well, I must admit I'm not sure what your history with him is, but at the moment, you distrust and dislike him – for obvious reasons really. That man is a snake, and coming from a man who wears an inverted cross on his back, that's saying something. This Leora… she's new to me. I can't help wondering about her. She's undoubtedly dangerous, but not in the way Midoya is. Or even Pariston really. That girl is odd. She seems almost supernatural. Out of this world. It's hard to pin her down."

"A murderer, a witch and a demon," Midoya said out-loud. "That's how that… that old man described the three of them. Us. I wonder which one she is."

Suddenly, as if Midoya's words had opened a door, the thick foliage around them parted to reveal a crystal clear river sparkling in the splatters of sunlight coming through the dense trees.

"Ulrgh," Kuroro said and pulled Midoya to the ground – because before them, in the lake, was a very naked almost-adult Midoya.

At a brief glance, it could have been his Midoya standing there, the twenty-seven year old adult that he knew so intimately. She was about the right height and of the right… maturity. However, she was slimmer, not by much, but enough to make her appear more curvy than plump. Her face only had a few red, infected spots and there were no wrinkles around her eyes. The changes were minute and Kuroro was surprised by how much younger and prettier they made her appear. She couldn't have been older than eighteen, and though no one would call her a beauty, without that much acne on her face, her features appeared more pleasant than uninspired.

As they watched, Midoya (in his mind, Kuroro dubbed her teen-Midoya again – he was running out of names for his lover's various incarnations) leaned over slightly and splashed water onto her face. Her hair, short and wavy, dripped with water as she ran her fingers through it in a strikingly masculine gesture.

"Hey," a young male voice said suddenly and their attention was drawn to a second figure standing by the river's edge. Yet again, it was Pariston, perhaps as young as teen-Midoya, and with his skull attached. In fact, he looked so suspiciously human Kuroro found himself searching for signs of cloven feet or forked tails.

"Hey back at you," teen-Midoya replied, appearing entirely unconcerned about her nakedness.

Pariston, who was fully clothed in a short-sleeved white button down, brown carpi pants and suspenders, smiled back with what appeared to be a genuine affection. On a different man, the outfit would have looked ridiculously dated. On the slender, youthful Pariston, it looked chic and modern.

"How much longer are you going to take?" Pariston asked, bouncing one foot with youthful languor. "You've been in there for half an hour already."

"Oh shut up," teen-Midoya replied without any heat. "We haven't had the chance to bathe in days. I am going to enjoy this as much as I can."

"Ah, to indulge in the simple pleasures in life and all that jazz," Pariston said, squatting down casually by the river's edge. "How long have we been lost in this bloody place anyway? I still can't believe Netero got people to kidnap us and strand us in the middle of who-knows-where."

"Really? I'm more surprised Netero managed to find people _capable _of kidnapping us and stranding us in the middle of who-knows-where." Teen-Midoya shrugged unconcernedly. "Does it really matter? We'll find our way out when we find our way out."

"Such Zen. I wouldn't have expected it of you, Miss Midoya June Kito. Wouldn't your businesses collapse without you around? I've heard you're trying to get into the computer market. Not easy that. I can see the potential of those machines especially when it comes to data-crunching, but not many people actually know how they work or how best to sell them. Don't your people need you around to guide them?"

Teen-Midoya snorted. "If my businesses collapsed just because I'm not around then I haven't been doing a very good job as CEO." She pushed her hair off her face and started to wring water out of it. "The foundations of my businesses are strong enough. They'll hold for a couple of months – even a couple of years."

"Hmm," Pariston hummed and stared at Midoya with an expression that made Kuroro eye the young man disapprovingly. "I like your new haircut. It's pretty," he said, and the warmth in his voice made it come out all the more sincere.

To Kuroro's never-ending horror, teen-Midoya actually flushed slightly. "Shut up," she muttered gruffly and splashed water at Pariston.

Crying out in shock then laughing, Pariston kicked water back at her, jumping straight into the river with his clothes on. Now shrieking and laughing at the same time, Midoya slapped water back into his face. "Yang!" she squealed and turned into the statue of silver Kuroro was so familiar with. Swiftly, she advanced on Pariston, whirling her blades so they sent a steady stream of water in Pariston's face.

"That is so not fair!" Pariston protested and fled, laughing hysterically. "That is not… you know I can't… oh!" He came to a sudden stop when a female figure suddenly appeared before him.

Even though she looked very different from the last time he saw her, Kuroro still recognised her. It was the large, enchanting violet eyes, set in the pale face that did the trick. Other than that, the strange little girl who had drained all the life out of him had changed. The bone-thin limbs had grown long and slender, so though her joints still stuck out painfully, she did not appear as emaciated as before. Her hips and breasts had filled up under the thin white robe she was wearing, though she would still be considered skinny even by the harsh standards of beauty pageants world-wide given how her ribs stuck out from beneath smooth, white skin. Her strangely swollen stomach still remained though, swelling significantly under the robe like a permanent pregnancy. Her neck had grown thin and long, leading to a small, oval face that was strangely, heart-achingly beautiful. Soft pink lips, straight, thin nose, lovely skin and those eyes like the windows into hell.

"Leora," Pariston said, and his voice gained a slightly stiffness that hadn't existed when he spoke to Midoya. "We were wondering where you had gone to."

The little girl, now a woman, stared at him unblinkingly. "I gathered some fruit," she said, unclasping thin, knobby fingers to reveal a bunch of berries. "I found them nearby. Are they edible?"

"Oh! Honey berries!" teen-Midoya, now back in human-form, came up to the girl. "Those are edible. Well done, Leora!"

The lovely lips turned up at the corners in a shy smile. "Thank you, Midoya," she said and held out the blue-coloured berries to teen-Midoya.

Teen-Midoya took them, and Kuroro could not help noticing how she carefully avoided touching the pale, thin hands. "Well, that's dinner for tonight, I suppose," Midoya said, wading back to where her clothes lay and bundling the berries carefully into what appeared to be a handkerchief. "We should be lucky Netero chose to strand us in a place that at least has a steady supply of food." As she spoke, she started to get dressed, putting on a white tank-top and a pink, flowing skirt that reached her ankles. Neither parts of her outfit were anything Kuroro had ever seen or could envision June or his Midoya wearing.

"Yes," Pariston said, coming up to stand next to teen-Midoya. "I suppose I'll see if I can hunt a rabbit or two tonight. That is unless Leora…"

"I can do it," the woman known as Leora said immediately, and there was something pathetically eager to please in her voice. "I can hunt if you want me to, Midoya."

Teen-Midoya blinked. "Well, I guess if you want to, you could," she said. "But you don't have to. Pariston or I can do the hunting. You've taken charge of meals for many, many days now."

The young woman blushed, or at least she blushed as much as she could: two spots of pale pink that were barely visible in the dim light. "It's alright. You have been taking care of me. You and Pariston, I meant. Always saving me and… protecting me."

"You are welcome," Pariston said, his face and body set in an almost formal posture.

"Don't worry too much about it, dear," teen-Midoya said, smiling warmly. "But you look absolutely lonely. Come on. Come here."

The young woman approached teen-Midoya with a coy eagerness – then kissed her straight on her lips with a desperate hunger.

Next to him, Midoya gave a sharp, horrified gasp. Kuroro might have joined her in her surprise, if he hadn't been so busy watching the expression on Pariston's face. Anger. Jealousy. Hatred.

The kiss lasted barely a second, but when the unhealthily-thin woman pulled away, Midoya's face had lost all the colour in it. Leora's face, on the other hand, was radiant and glowing.

"Are you okay?" Pariston asked, putting an arm around teen-Midoya.

"Yes, of course," teen-Midoya replied tightly. "I'm fine." Smiling a smile that was too forced, she deliberately straightened up and took a wobbly step forward. The thin hands reached for her and Pariston yanked her back.

"That's enough," Pariston said, and his voice had become dead and cold.

"Pariston," Midoya complained. "It's alright. Let go."

"No, I'm not letting her touch you. Not when her touch sucks your life-force away," Pariston said, deliberately leading teen-Midoya away from the violet eyes staring after them.

"I love Midoya," Leora said, coming forward.

"Well, love her from a distance, _Preta_."

"Pariston!" teen-Midoya scolded, though her exhaustion took the edge out of her voice. She tried to disentangle herself from him, but he somehow managed to sit her down on the ground. "It is not Leora's fault she cannot control… It. That thing, that demon lives in her. It is not her."

Pariston was silent for a moment then in a voice as sincere as a whore's, he said, "Yes, of course. I am sorry. I was worried about you and that led me to snap at Leora. Please forgive me… the both of you."

"Yes," Leora said simply.

"Of course," teen-Midoya said and gave him a tired but warm smile. "Come, Leora. Come and sit with me. You too, Pariston. You are my best friend; please don't fight with my lover."

"Of course," Pariston repeated and sat down next to her, as far from the slender woman as he could. "You are right. We shall not fight."

"No, we shan't," Leora agreed and sat as close to teen-Midoya as she could without touching her, her large violet eyes staring into the distance.

Though they didn't seem to be doing much now, Kuroro would have still liked to continue watching them if only because people tend to slip up the most when nothing is happening. Unfortunately, the tiny hand tugging frantically on his sleeve stopped him from doing so.

"What?" he demanded out of the corner of his mouth.

I'm… I'm homosexual?" child-Midoya demanded, her eyes wide with shock. "I'm _homosexual_?"

Oh goody. He had always wanted to have a conversation like this with a kid. To not just explain the bird and the bees but also the bees and the bees, and the birds and the birds, and the many other fauna in between. "You are… well…" Kuroro cleared his throat. "You are not… particular."

"Oh, so I guess I'm… I'm _bisexual?_"

"I suppose. Now keep your voice down." She made a gulping sound and he sighed. "Midoya, you are, as far as I know, more inclined towards having male lovers. But I am also aware you are not entirely… opposed to… women. Just… that's not important…"

"_Not important?"_

"Not as important as that woman, Leora."

"Oh, you mean my _girlfriend_?"

"Yes, I do, now will you keep your voice down? They're not exactly that far away from us."

"Double meanie." She pulled a sulk to rival all the sulks Kuroro had ever witnessed in this life-time. He couldn't decide if he wanted to cuddle her and make appropriately comforting noises or slap her silly. Before he could decide, her practical side asserted itself, and she said, "_Preta_. I've heard that term before."

"Hmm. Do tell."

"Some Eastern religions speak of this entity. It's a… I guess the best word is 'demon', that is also known as _Peta_ or _Gaki_ depending on which culture or country you ask. Supposedly, they are the spirits of greedy people who have passed away. Because of their nature, they develop an insatiable hunger for a particular substance. I've read records of it being anything from faeces to human blood." She paused then added, "I suppose you'll become one after you're dead since everything you've told me about yourself so far suggests you are quite the greedy man."

"Why yes, that's true, thank you very much. Lovely image that," Kuroro replied dryly, though he couldn't help smiling a little. That had been a pathetically childish attempt at an insult. His Midoya would have done so much better. "Interesting Pariston called her that and that Midoya, that is teen-Midoya over there replied by saying Leora can't control the demon. Now, I know you don't believe in demons in the traditional sense, so I assume teen-Midoya was describing Leora's Nen instead."

"I don't believe in demons? Really?" the child bit her lip in thought. "I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Well, you will eventually. Again, dear, that's not the important part." Kuroro glanced back at the trio in the clearing, but they were still sitting there, as frozen as a tableau. "Remember, we started out on this little adventure with the hypothesis that seeking out places significant to you will eventually lead us to untangling the web that is your formidable mind. However, in this case, we've been thrown, twice already, into dreamscapes that we never intended to seek out. That means our little expedition is being taken out of our control."

The child frowned some more. "Okay," she said slowly. "But by who?"

"Ah, now that's the question isn't it?" Again, Kuroro glanced at the trio – then blinked because the tableau had changed.

The lake had vanished. In fact, somehow without him noticing, the entire forest had disappeared to be replaced by a cave. It was a large cavern of wet, grey stone. Large crystals sprouted out liberally from every surface. In the centre of the cavern stood an elevated stone platform, the kind Kuroro could imagine young virgins being sacrificed on to bloodthirsty gods. Midoya stood before it, silver blades growing from the palms of her hand and dripping blood onto the rocky ground below her. Blood ran in rivulets down her stony face like ruby red tears. On the platform, Pariston, an expression of immense sadness on his face, sat cradling the still body of the young woman known as Leora. She was still wearing the thin white robe that barely covered her body. The front had been torn open where a blade had run straight down her torso, spilling her internal organs over the platform and the young man holding her.

"Oh…" child-Midoya said weakly and buried her face into his coat.

No one in the tableau moved, so Kuroro got to his feet and approached the three, child-Midoya stumbling by his side. He glanced briefly at Pariston then looked at teen-Midoya. Though she couldn't be much older than she had been when she had bathed so cheerfully in the lake, she looked like she had aged a decade. Her face was absolutely blank of emotions but her eyes were dark and haunted. Turning from her, he regarded the dead woman being cradled like a baby by the stricken Pariston.

Though her limbs hung loosely where they had fallen, her eyes were wide with shock, disbelief and betrayal. A thin line of watery blood ran from one nostril. She had died before she had a chance to bleed out – but she hadn't gone down easy. Her thin limbs were littered with open cuts that couldn't bleed without a beating heart.

"Why…?" child-Midoya asked as though she did not, perhaps could not, finish the sentence. It did not take a genius to guess what she was asking.

"I don't know why you killed her," he said, "but it cost you your soul to do it."

The beautiful, heart-shaped face, lolled back suddenly, dropping into the crook of Pariston's arm. The white lips whispered, _"This wasn't what I wanted." _

Silence greeted her statement. When no one else in the tableau responded, Kuroro asked cautiously, "What was it you wanted?"

She did not reply, did not even seem to notice he was there. "_This wasn't supposed to happen,"_ she whispered.

"What happened?" child-Midoya asked.

"_You promised…"_ she whispered.

"What did I promise?" child-Midoya asked wretchedly.

"_Forever and ever."_ The large, violet eyes suddenly rolled towards them, filled with an insane hatred that made even Kuroro take a step back. _"You can't stop us. No one can. Forever and ever. I'll never let go. Never."_ The life seeped out of her and slowly, like water spilling over a table-top, she returned to her original position, staring wide-eyed into the caverns around them.

"Well now, that was weird," Kuroro commented – then blinked again because they were back on the rain-slick streets of York Shin.

* * *

After spending some months in a largely illegal industry, Kurapika had grown to like his slender limbs. They were just so useful for many things – like hiding a knife or a gun in his socks because weapons were less likely to bulge out in an unsightly manner as it might on a more robust man. In this case though, Kurapika found himself very grateful to his mother for passing on her tiny wrists to him because he was finally making headway slipping the heavy-duty handcuffs off his wrists.

Gritting his teeth, Kurapika pulled a little harder against the thick metal bands wrapped around his wrists and felt them slide over his wrist bone. Then he had to pause to catch his breath because his entire body was screaming in agony.

Shortly after he had woken up, he had found himself slung unceremoniously over a low coffee table and his four limbs cuffed to the base of the table. Given that the table was in no way long enough to accommodate his body, he had ended up with his legs and head dangling off the edge, leaving him feeling dangerously dizzy from all the blood rushing to his brain. His position also ensured that his body had been stretched and held in an unnatural position for… well… he had no idea how long.

At the very least, the scary blonde man hadn't tried to cut his face off.

Kurapika closed his eyes and swallowed painfully. In that moment, when the blonde man had asked what Kurapika thought he should do with him, Kurapika had been absolutely convinced that he was about to get his face ripped off. The look in the man's eyes… those were not the eyes of a sane man. They had been wide and filled with a malicious, jarringly child-like glee.

Yet, he had backed off, smiling tenderly when he had seen how badly he scared Kurapika. He had patted Kurapika on his head, called him a 'good boy' then walked off into the kitchen, humming a cheerful tune.

He didn't know why that man was keeping him alive – but he certainly wasn't going to assume that generosity was going to last long.

As best as he could from the position that he was in, Kurapika risked a glance at the kitchen where the blonde man had disappeared into. As far as he could tell, he was still there, pottering around and singing a song about sunshine and young love. Taking another deep breath, Kurapika tugged on the cuffs again and felt them slip some more. _Just relax. Loosen your muscles. Don't tense up. Be like a piece of silk. Soft, malleable, sliding out from the restraints like water. _Just a little more… just a little more and he could get his arms free. Just a little…

A soft groan.

Startled, Kurapika froze in place, his eyes darting to the prone woman lying on the couch. Unlike that… Spider… who had been dumped in what looked like an uncomfortable position on the floor, the blonde man had laid Midoya respectfully, even lovingly, onto the couch, arranging her robe around her so as to maintain her modesty. She had shifted however, moving just a little so her robe opened in front to reveal a hideous scar that must have split opened her torso from sternum to navel. It looked disturbingly like a Y-incision scar, but that had to be impossible; such an operation would have killed her.

Kurapika stared a second longer then looked away because while her robe still preserved most of her modesty, that was still more… more… _breast_ than he was used to seeing.

"This wasn't what I wanted."

"Wh…?" Kurapika's eyes darted back to her.

Her lips parted and a thin line of blood leaked out of her nose. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered.

"Midoya? Are you awake?" Kurapika glanced at the kitchen, but the blonde man didn't seem to have heard. "Midoya?"

She shifted again, head almost rolling off the couch. "You promised…" she whispered in a voice so full of grief Kurapika almost felt his eyes turning red in sympathy.

"Are you still dreaming?"

"Forever and ever," she murmured. "You can't stop us. No one can. Forever and ever. I'll never let go. Never."

Huh. Weird. That didn't quite sound like the Midoya he knew. He just couldn't see the calm, unflappable Hunter being that… that obsessive. Of course, it wasn't like he knew her that well…

The blonde man suddenly reappeared by the couch and Kurapika stiffened in alarm. He hadn't even noticed when the man had returned. He wondered if the man had seen him trying to escape, wondered what he would do if he found out – but the man ignored him. Instead, he sat down on the couch again, gently placing Midoya's head onto his lap.

"So, did anything happen to Midoya while I was gone?" the blonde man asked pleasantly.

"What do you mean by 'happen'?" Kurapika replied, trying to keep his hands still so he wouldn't draw attention to them.

"Anything really," the blonde man said with a shrug. "Her Nen activating or behaving oddly, doing anything or saying anything." He paused then glanced at the tussled up Spider on the floor. "How about him? Anything?"

"No," Kurapika replied shortly, which wasn't exactly a lie. He didn't specify that he was talking about the Spider who had been utterly motionless for however long they've been unconscious and not Midoya.

"I see," the blonde man said with a nod. Gently, he ran a finger along Midoya's eyes and lifted it to show Kurapika. The tip of his finger was dyed in red.

"She's bleeding!" Kurapika exclaimed.

"Indeed, poor girl," the blonde man said, his lips turning down at the corners. "My poor, poor Midoya."

"She needs help. You need to get her to a doctor."

"No. It's alright." The blonde man smiled sadly. "She's just having nightmares."

"Nightmares?"

"Oh, I already know you have seen them. Memories and dreams, ghosts trapped in her head and soul-crushing emotions personified," the blonde man murmured. "That's what D.I.P does to you of course."

"What is D.I.P?" Kurapika asked, trying not to let his frustration be seen.

The blonde man smiled, as if amused. "Her baby," he said, stroking Midoya's hair. "One of her many babies, really. She likes to have an invention or two a year. This was one of her failures, but only in the sense that it did what she didn't want it to do."

The odd phrasing caught his attention. "What didn't she want it to do?" Kurapika pushed.

"Kill her entire team of scientists and technicians." The blonde man smiled. "Not that they are technically dead. No, it was worse. You see…" Idly, he twirled a strand of Midoya's hair around his finger, "D.I.P is a key."

"To what?" This was almost as painful and as tedious as extracting a splinter stuck in his foot.

"To everything." The blonde man's voice had dropped to a hush whisper. "Every dark secret you have kept hidden, every guilty thought you've ever had, every memory so painful you had to dig it out of your heart and soul in order to continue living – everything. It blows it all wide open in an instant, lights up all the neural highways in your brain, throws open every door in your mind and leaves you in so much pain the only thing, _only_ thing you can do is escape into unconsciousness." He smiled. "And that's when the real nightmares start."

"_Real_ nightmares?"

"Oh yes. While your conscious brain escapes, your unconscious is laid open. That's when anyone can just… step in, and so we do – step in through the doorway that was created as easily as we would enter our own homes."

Kurapika stared. "What on earth are you talking about?" he demanded.

The blonde man ignored him. "But alas, things didn't work out that way. After all, doors open both ways. Even as we stepped in, something stepped out. And what stepped out was not anything even Midoya with her genius intellect expected."

A chill ran down his spine. "What was it?" he whispered.

The blonde man's smile widened and suddenly he looked like an alligator bearing down on its prey. "Monsters," he whispered back. "Nightmares. Lumbering out from the filthy depths of the human subconscious. And everyone was eaten alive."

Kurapika's jaw dropped. "Eaten alive?" he asked incredulously. "By… by _what_?"

"Not literally of course," the blonde man said, amused. "Or perhaps I do mean it literally. Because you see, you can die once. You can die twice. But if you keep dying, dying, dying in _somebody else's mind_… oh, that's when your mind goes a little bit… crazy. Of course, we all go a little crazy sometimes. The scary thing about going crazy is you never really know when you do. So, you go in once, you go in twice… and by the third time… it turns on you." The blonde man's eyes looked like large pools of wet mud. "Oh the _horror_. It blows your mind open, throws open every door and every neural highway. It drags you relentlessly into your own nightmares. Slowly, bit by bit, without realising it, you go insane. That's what happens when you're _eaten alive_. You start gnawing at the insides of the prison that is your body, clawing and biting and chewing until all that is left of you is a pile of quivering, homicidal neuroses. That's why Midoya shut it down."

"Midoya?" Kurapika's mind was reeling from the information overload. "She shut it down? She… oh my god. Don't tell me…"

"Oh, yes," the blonde man agreed. "She almost went under that time. It was so close. She was lucky she is used to throwing up emergency mental barriers. When it started to drag her down, she fought it, barely made it out of the room in time, so to speak. But in that moment… ah… in that brief moment when she almost went under, she saw."

"Saw?"

"She saw her own monsters," the blonde man whispered. "She saw it clearly, saw what she kept hidden away in the depths of her soul, and so she locked them all away, deep into her mind, never to be reached again – till now."

Kurapika's mind leapt immediately to the monsters he had fought, the mutated, nightmarish creatures who had tried to eat them. "Why are you telling me all this?" he demanded. "Why now when you've been so reticent all this time?"

Now the blonde man was smiling again. "In a way you deserve to know, I suppose, since you were dragged quite unwittingly into this entire mess," he mused. "In a way, it's because I wish for someone to understand."

"Understand what?"

"Why I'm doing this."

And though he had guessed it by now, Kurapika still couldn't stop himself from saying, "So you are the one behind this."

"Yes. Of course." He looked amused now. "Surely it was obvious."

"Of course. So why are you doing this?"

"Because I need to know…" the blonde man paused and added, with an incongruous delicacy, "how she… feels about me."

Oh. My. God. "You cannot be serious!" Kurapika exploded. "You are doing this, risking her sanity and mine and… this… Spider's… to find out how she _feels _about you?"

The blonde man smiled. "I suppose you can say that, yes."

"You are crazy!" Kurapika snapped. "If you think I'm going to allow you to do this, you are wrong!"

The smile widened. "And what are you going to do to stop me?"

Kurapika stared at him with wide, red eyes. "No idea," he finally said, "but I think this is a good start."

And in a snap, he had slipped his limbs out of the cuffs and thrown himself bodily out of the window.

* * *

"_Do you know what I fear the most? Do you know what my nightmares are made up of? Not death nor torture, nor pain nor imprisonment. Those scare me not for I have seen them and endured them, and know that they are nothing. What scares me is a normal life – for only that can take her away from me."_

Diary of Leora Devi Sati

Confiscated posthumously by the Hunters' Association


	6. Nightmares and Monsters

A/N: Thanks to everybody who expressed their concern for me. I really appreciate it! Warning: this chapter is particularly gory and depressing. Brace yourselves before you proceed – if you choose to do so.

Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter, _Logic of Sense_, and any other books/movies/songs etc referenced in this story (other than _The Inaccessible Unconscious_) do not belong to me.

* * *

Nightmares and Monsters

_Night must have fallen for it was entirely dark. _

_Night. Strange, strange night. There were no shades of grey, no suggestions of purples and blues; there was not even a hint of light. Solid and dense, it wrapped around her like a black velvet pelt. Incomprehensible, impenetrable, like a cloth draped over a corpse._

_She shifted her head – left and right – and realised her impression of velvet was not wrong. She appeared to have been blindfolded by the softest, furriest blindfold she had ever felt in her life. It wrapped around her face as gently and as comfortingly as a mother's touch, and lulled her into a state of pure relaxation. _

_For a moment, she was utterly bemused. What was she doing blindfolded? Had she been kidnapped? It didn't seem so since her arms and legs weren't restrained. In fact, they lay sprawled easily around her, heavy and leaden with incoming sleep. Why was she not reaching up to remove her blindfold? Why did she not feel any fear or panic? Why was she so calm? Why was she… why was she anticipating what was to come next? _

_Huh. What was to come next? She had no idea. _

_No. She knew. She knew what was coming. _

_Male hands, not as large as she had known, but strong and hard, cupped her full breasts briefly then reached up to grip her wrists tightly, holding her arms above her head – not, it seemed, to restrain her, but as if to feel her. A heavy body pressed down on her and she felt hot breath brush against her skin. Warm, wet lips pressed against her neck and teeth, sharp and hard, bit into her flesh. A male voice, soft and almost inaudible, sighed in pleasure. _

_A small shiver ran through her at that, and she felt her heart start to race. "Hurts," she whispered breathlessly. "It hurts. Be gentle." _

"_Can't help it," he whispered back, licking the blood off her skin, "You've been teasing me the whole day. Wicked woman." _

"_Have I?" she asked, genuinely surprised. "Have I really?" What could she possibly have done to arouse him so? _

"_Oh yes, you naughty girl. You naughty, naughty girl. What shall I do with you now? How shall I punish you for this?" _

"_Um…" she replied because she wasn't used to this. No one had ever asked her how she wanted to be punished. They normally decided that for themselves. If it was up to her, she wouldn't want to be punished at all – certainly not for something she didn't remember doing. _

_She said as much, but he ignored her. So she bit his arm. It was like biting into steel cable. Her jaws ached with the effort. Yet, somehow she managed to draw blood. _

_He didn't seem to mind; he was too busy worrying her earlobe, catching it between his teeth and tugging playfully. She reciprocated by biting his shoulder as hard as she could. Blood flooded into her mouth, but he simply moaned softly in approval and started to slide into her. _

_But she stopped him. Because she had questions. _

"_Why do I keep dreaming of you?" she asked. "Who are you?" _

"_Someone you've forgotten," he replied, and pushed all the way in despite her best efforts to keep him out. "Someone you have to remember." _

"_I don't remember you," she said, and felt the faintest stirrings of panic. "I don't." _

"_You will," he replied, his voice practically a growl against her ear. "I'll make you remember me." _

_The darkness behind her blindfold and the heavy weight above her seemed like a prison, one that she would never be able to escape from. "What happens if I don't?" she asked, feeling anxiety lap at the edges of her consciousness, but never quite reaching it. "What happens if I never remember you?" _

"_Then I will never forgive you," he growled. "Never." _

_His grip on her wrists tightened and he started to move faster, slamming into her so violently she felt her entire body lift off the bed. She fought back, biting his shoulder so hard she thought she could feel his bone beneath her teeth. She heard him gasp, whether in pain or pleasure she could not tell. Her head hit the headboard of the bed and she saw starbursts behind her blindfold. _

_And in that moment, a name crept onto the tip of her tongue, demanding to be said, demanding to be called, demanding to be screamed. She waited for it, waited for it to rise to her mind, to know what it was. She waited and waited and waited, but all she felt was her tongue starting to bleed and bleed and… _

Midoya woke up to warmth, light and a firm set of thighs beneath her body. They were clothed as she was but…

"Mrgh," she mumbled, feeling all the heat in her body rushing to her face and leaving her hands cold and clammy.

"What is it?" the cold, smoky voice she had grown so used to asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Midoya replied and sat up so she could put some distance between them till she had gotten over her embarrassment and revulsion.

Turning her back on his piercing stare, she faced the small fire he had built instead and buried her burning face in her freezing arms. What on earth was that… that thing she just experienced? It wasn't like anything she had ever felt before. It wasn't unpleasant. It wasn't pleasant. It was like being trapped in a room filled with poisonous gas and sucking in a mouthful in order to give her oxygen-starved body what it needed to live just a second longer. It made her feel so painfully alive and yet so giddily aware of her mortality. It was… it was… what was it?

A name at the tip of her tongue. A name she could not remember and therefore could not say. She could not help wondering what it was, whose it was. She could not help wondering if it might be important.

Well, there wasn't any point thinking about it, was there? Especially not when the memory made her feel nauseous and somewhat embarrassed at the same time. It was just too… too confusing.

Shaking her head mentally, Midoya discarded all thoughts of that strange and discomforting dream, and thought back to what had happened after they had seen Leora… her… her future… past girlfriend… die.

After the dream had shifted back to York Shin City, they had spent some time wandering about, trying to see if they could find more future incarnations of her. However, it was all to no avail. They couldn't find any adult Midoyas, or even non-human Midoyas, like poor Poe-chan. In fact, there hadn't even been able to find a single monster for Kuroro to kill.

After walking around for what seemed like hours (_days_), Kuroro had suggested that they stop for a rest. Though she didn't feel as tired as she used to, she agreed because she didn't feel like she could take the running around, the fighting and the dying much longer. She wondered how Kuroro could look at so much blood, look at so much death, and still remain so blasé about it. She wondered how her future self could do the same. She couldn't wait to find out.

At any rate, once it was decided that they would stop for a break, they both agreed that the thing to do was to get off the streets. As empty as they were, the streets still gave them the creeps. The silence, the fog, the strange, surreal buildings, kept them, or at least her, in a heightened state of anxiety. Kuroro had thus chosen the backroom of what appeared to be a store of some sort for them to rest in. After making sure the room had proper ventilation, he had lit a fire to keep them warm. Remembering what had happened the last time they had stopped for a rest, Kuroro had promised not to leave her alone this time unless it was absolutely beyond his control to do otherwise.

Not that she could necessarily trust his promises. Look at what happened to the poor man - that Kurapika - whom Kuroro had betrayed just a few seconds after they had agreed to an alliance. The way he had died, his entire body crumbling into dust… Midoya closed her eyes and ejected that image from her mind because it was making her feel nauseous again.

A soft breeze, cold and damp with fog, disturbed the fire and set her body shivering. Her eyes darted around the dirty but sparse room, roaming over peeling walls stained with fungi and other more dubious fluids, floors damp and foul with stagnant water, and the single window left partially open. She did not feel safe in this place. But then she didn't feel safe anywhere else.

A warm hand touched her shoulder. "Are you okay?" that voice asked and Midoya reluctantly looked at him.

"I'm fine," she replied, trying and failing to stop herself from leaning into him. "Just… nightmares," she mumbled vaguely into his coat. He felt comforting and she revelled in it as much as she hated herself for becoming so dependent on him.

"Nightmares." He sounded amused which grated on her already frayed nerves.

"What's so funny?" she asked in a tone that was definitely not annoyed.

"My precious Midoya," he said fondly, "I am more used to you being the nightmare rather than suffering from them. Once, when the Ryodan and I were rather bored with waiting for a transport convey we were going to rob, we decided to play 'I've Never'. It seems that Bonolevov is the only one who has never had a nightmare about you before. Even Feitan had a nightmare about you. When he described them to us, I actually felt a chill run down my spine - largely because I can actually see that dream becoming reality. You can only imagine how Feitan must have felt having to experience it himself."

"You make me sound like a monster," Midoya complained.

"That's because you are," he told her and patted her head gently.

For a brief moment, Midoya was tempted to be even more not-annoyed with him. But then it occurred to her that he wasn't insulting her; he was complimenting her. To him, being a monster was a good thing and he liked that about her, that she was as inhuman as she could get without actually being from a totally different gene pool. She couldn't decide if she liked or hated him for that – for being both so kind and so cruel, so loving and so hateful.

Just like Mother.

"Have you rested enough?" Kuroro asked. "If yes, we should get going."

"Yes, I'm good." She wrapped his shirt tightly around her torso and fought back a shiver. Why was it so cold? She didn't remember York Shin ever being this cold. "Let's get out of here. Um… where are we going?"

"Good question." Kuroro rubbed his chin in a charmingly old-school masculine gesture. "Before we were sucked out of the York Shin dreamscape, we were thinking of visiting the red-light district. We might as well pick up where we left off."

Midoya thought about that for a second. "I don't see why not," she agreed. "I can't think of anywhere else I might go."

"Have you no other place that holds significance to you?"

"Of course I do. Bernie's Ice cream Parlour is one. I love the chocolate chip and mint ice-cream there. And the Empire Culture Opera House. I once caused a riot there." Midoya gave him a defensive look. "Mother tells me my singing voice is a gift. I can use it to kill people and potentially cause them to hallucinate about pink elephants, possibly not in that order. How many people can claim to be able to do that?"

"Your mother was obviously just trying to make you feel better, dear. Interesting though; I would never have taken you to be a Mummy's girl given your history."

"Unlike Father, Mother never left me in a mental asylum; she simply chose to pretend I'm not in one. Still, she visited often with candy and knitted sweaters. It would have been nice if those weren't imaginary candies and sweaters. Father banned her from bringing me anything, you see. He did not feel I was worth spending money on. So we played pretend." Midoya shrugged. "After a while, it was almost as good as the real thing. Mother has a very vivid imagination, which I inherited." She looked at the man listening to her. "Did I really kill her?"

He shrugged. "That's what you told me. I've learned that you're not always the most honest and upright of people, but on this matter, I believe you."

Midoya waited a moment for the emotions to hit her. They never did. Not that she didn't feel anything; but it just wasn't as intense as she thought it would be. It was more like tiny pinpricks of mixed emotions in her chest, just like the feeling she got when it was so cold in her cell even her chest had gone numb. "Huh," she said finally.

"What's the matter? Feeling guilty?"

"No," Midoya confessed. "Not feeling anything at all."

Then that changed abruptly when a giant pressed it's bloody, ill-formed face to the window and screamed at them.

* * *

There was a young blonde man pounding on his window and shouting at him to open it, and it was making Daryl feel pretty confused.

Honestly, today had been a bit of a crap day for Daryl Menesaki and it wasn't even noon yet. It began when he had woken up with a pounding, dizzying hangover to the sounds of whoever lived in the penthouse above him doing the dirty – very loudly and very nastily, if he was to make a guess. He had thought about yelling at them to keep it down, but that had only resulted in him throwing up on last night's clothes.

Despite the massive headache, the achy stomach, the patchiness on his usually smooth skin and the redness in his eyes, he had still dragged himself to work – only to discover that his company had been closed down by the police. Apparently, someone had discovered a number of 'white collar crimes' (as the ugly, fat policemen in those ill-fitting uniforms called them) in the company's finance reports, and the entire building had been sealed up by the police. No matter how much he had begged, argued and screamed, that didn't change, and he had ended up standing outside his own fucking company staring at his own fucking employees who were just as confused and as guilty as he was. Obviously, this was the work of his fucking brother who was always trying to take over the company business and causing him a lot of trouble… but fine. Fine! Daryl had cooperated with the police, answered all their shitty questions for hours, and finally dragged his gorgeous ass all the way home – only to find some strange man knocking on his window and asking to be let in.

Dropping his briefcase on the floor, Daryl loosened his tie, shot the frustrated-looking young man an irritated look, and went to the bar to pour himself a whiskey. On his way there, his stomach reminded him that whiskey probably wasn't the best idea he had ever come up with, so he got a glass of milk instead. He gulped that down in three mouths then went about making a sandwich which he promptly demolished in two bites. Wandering out from behind the bar, he ignored the increasingly frantic pounding and went into the bathroom to wash his face, brush his teeth and shave.

Finally, discovering he couldn't put off dealing with the inevitable any longer, he went to the window and glared at the young man glaring back at him.

"What are you doing out there?" he demanded. "We're forty-nine stories up."

"Yes, I know!" the young man replied, having to shout to be heard. "That's why I would appreciate it if you would let me in! I'm starting to lose my grip out here!"

Well, that explained the desperation in the young man's expression. But Daryl had been pushed around the most of this morning and he was damned if he was letting this young man do the same, no matter how reasonable his request was. "Well, why should I?" he demanded. "You could be a burglar. Where did you come from anyway?"

"The floor above! From the other wing! It's a really long story! Couldn't you please let me in?"

The floor above? Was this the guy having wild monkey sex early in the morning and annoying the shit out of him? It could be; he hadn't been too sure which penthouse the noises were coming from. Daryl briefly contemplated finding a stick to poke the guy with until he fell to his death below, but the thought that doing so would only start another police investigation on him made him discard that notion. "Go back up then," he said instead. "I'm not letting you in!"

"Please, there's a… a criminal upstairs and he's threatening me!"

Threatening him, huh? Daryl felt a twinge of sympathetic pain at that. The police had been threatening him all day, those filthy bastards. Just because his company wasn't as big as some, they thought they could push him around. Wait till he closed that deal with the King family… that would give him some power and… But that was beside the point. The point was the young man who was standing out there making puppy eyes at him. Pretty cute puppy eyes too. Actually, come to think of it, the boy was pretty cute all over. How old was he? He looked kind of young and scrawny, but he might be of legal age. He even looked like he played for the same team. That would be nice. Daryl really hadn't gotten any since Quinn left him…

"So," Daryl said cautiously. "What's your name and how old are you?"

"Kurapika!" the boy shouted. "I'm eighteen! Sort of…"

Oh goody. Things were looking up. Including that. That was certainly looking… up.

"Well hello Kurapika," Daryl purred, leaning against the window frame and looking up his dark lashes at the young man. "Name's Daryl. Pleased to meet you. Very pleased to meet you, in fact."

"Thanks!" the young man shouted. "Now, could you please…?"

"Oh I would love to… oh! Oh right." The lock was rusty and Daryl spent an awkwardly long time struggling to open it. Eventually, the lock snapped free and he managed to drag it open in a somewhat dashing way. He even found an opportunity to offer his arm to the young man. The thin, slender hand was freezing and surprisingly rough with callouses. "There, isn't that better?" Daryl beamed when the young man was safely in his apartment.

"Yes," Kurapika said, shivering. "You have my gratitude."

Oh god, so prim and proper. That was cute enough to bring out his chivalrous side. "Here, have my coat," Daryl smothered, sweeping up his abandoned blazer and draping it over the young man's shoulders.

"Thank you," Kurapika repeated, his voice shaking with cold. "But I must away… it's not safe… for me to be here. That… that criminal is after me. He can't be far behind… managed to… distract him but… he will find me. And you will get into… trouble… if you…"

"Oh but you are so cold," Daryl mumbled, mesmerised by the pretty, rosebud lips. "At least let me give you something… something uh… hot… to… drink. Like… um… milk. Yeah. Milk. Hot… milk."

There must have been something of his desire in his tone because the young man stiffened with wariness. "No thank you, I have to go," he said, letting the blazer drop to the ground as he backed away from Daryl.

"Whoa, hey, relax," Daryl said, backing up immediately too. "I'm uh… I'm not being a perv, dude. I just… I just want to offer you a cup of milk. You're seriously freezing." Which was kind of true. Daryl wasn't the type to force himself on anyone and the boy seriously needed a hot drink. Didn't mean that he wouldn't mind warming the guy up like in those mum-porn novels. Skin-to-skin. Naked. Beneath sheets.

The young man shook his head. "No thank you," he said, his voice as frosty as his hands. "I was not kidding about the criminal. I need to go. Now."

"Well look, if you really are in trouble, why don't you let me call the police?" Daryl turned around to reach for his cell phone but Kurapika shook his head.

"No, not a good idea. I need to…" His voice broke off in a startled gasp as his eyes fixed on the window behind Daryl.

Daryl turned to see what had scared the young man and was himself startled to see another young, blonde man there. So alright, he wasn't as young, but he certainly wasn't old. He wasn't cute like Kurapika either. He looked more pretty than cute, but Daryl was fine with that. Or he would be if not for those eyes. Blank, cold and weird. Strange eyes. Strange, scary eyes. So pretty, yet so… so almost… insectile.

A shudder ran down his spine but he forced himself not to cringe. "Hey, who are you?" he demanded instead, striding up to the newcomer. "What do you think you are doing here?"

"No! Wait!" Kurapika shouted, reaching out to grab his sleeve. "Don't! He's dangerous!"

"What? What do you mean?" Daryl asked, turning around to look at the boy.

A cold breeze swept in from the window and a sensation like ice slid around his neck.

"Oh," the boy breathed, his eyes widening.

"Oh?" Daryl repeated, feeling confused. The boy seemed to be growing taller and tilting sideways, his face, twisted into a mask of horror and pity, falling further and further away from him.

What a beautiful boy. Beautiful, beautiful boy. So beautiful in his grief. So beautiful in his pain.

Daryl had a brief moment to mourn that he would never kiss those lips, before his decapitated head hit the floor with a loud, wet crunch.

* * *

The face leering at them from behind the window was much bigger than the tiny opening. Massive, fleshy, hairless and covered entirely in blood, it screamed at them helplessly from beyond the walls, spraying blood and plasma everywhere. Like a creature out of a horror movie, its face had no eyes, nose or ears, but the mere impression of them – dents and bumps that were more suggestions of those features than anything else. Beneath these not-features was a mouth, a toothless, fleshy, lipless hole that wailed and screamed at them like a banshee.

Kuroro took a wary step away from the window, drawing Midoya with him. Though the creature did not seem capable of reaching in to grasp them, he wanted to move them further from it in case it brought the wall down on them with its enormous weight.

"What is that?" Midoya gasped breathlessly. "What is that monster?"

"I have no idea," Kuroro replied, pulling her towards the door. "One of your nightmares, no doubt. Either way, we should get out. Now."

The monster screamed again and pressed its head against the window, as if desperate to squeeze in through that tiny opening. Its flesh seemed soft and malleable, but could not compress enough for it to slip through. It wailed again, its voice full of rage and despair, and something in Kuroro almost made him reach out for it.

"Oh dear, oh dear," Midoya whispered repeatedly. "Oh dear, oh dear. Oh dear."

"Oh dear indeed," Kuroro muttered, drawing back from the monster and from the unusual pity he felt. The feeling was too uncharacteristic of him for him to trust it. "Alright, it is time to leave. Let's go."

"It's…" Midoya whispered. "It's… it's… what…"

"Come on," Kuroro insisted and pushed the door open, pulling Midoya through.

Instantly, he stopped, for before him stood another Midoya.

No, not Midoya. It couldn't be.

The woman standing before him was tall, for one, tall and slender, like a willow in the wind. Her breasts and hips were full despite her slight build, and her neck was long and slender. Dark hair fell in beautiful, perfect curls over creamy white skin. Her face was oval with high cheek bones. She was as unlike Midoya as anyone could be. Yet, it was Midoya's features on her face. The small, slightly up-tilt eyes, the turned-up nose and the thin lips. On Midoya's much stockier build, those delicate features seemed small and bland, swallowed up by round cheeks, a heavier jaw and heavy acne. On this woman before him with her delicate, tiny face, those same features gave her an air of elegant modesty instead. They even seemed, perhaps not pretty, but classy, sophisticated, yet somehow feminine and gentle.

"Oh dear lord," Midoya mumbled, her voice slurred with shock. "Mother."

Mother. Goodness, she could not mean… Well, of course she did. This must be Miharu Kito nee Dunstan. The woman who had birthed Midoya.

The woman smiled widely. "Oh, my baby," she said fondly. "My little baby. My sweet little baby."

"Mother," Midoya mumbled and stepped away from Kuroro, her arms held out. "Mother."

"My baby," Miharu Kito replied, reaching out as well. "My little baby. My precious little baby."

"Mother…"

"No!" Kuroro grabbed onto Midoya and pulled her back roughly.

Midoya made a wordless sound – the sound of a child calling for her mother.

"Do not go near her," Kuroro warned. "Everyone we have met in this dreamscape has tried to kill us. She will be no exception."

"But…" Midoya gasped as the monster behind them screamed again. Kuroro turned to look and saw it was still trying to squeeze its head through that tiny window.

"My baby!" Miharu Kito exclaimed and flew past them, her arms spread open and her face alight with crazed joy. "My baby!" With a sweet, musical laugh, she threw herself bodily out of the window and reached for the monster.

"Mo…" Midoya stuttered, staring wide-eyed in horror.

"Uh oh," Kuroro muttered and wrapped his arms around Midoya – just in time to prevent her seeing the monster take her mother into its mouth and swallow her whole.

"Oh god," Midoya moaned into his arms, for there was no way he could have masked the wet, sucking screams of the woman being eaten alive. "Oh no. Oh no, no."

"Focus on me," Kuroro told her, holding him to his chest as he climbed back to his feet. "Look at me, not that thing." He took another step away from the room – then stopped again when he saw Miharu Kito standing there, looking alive and well.

"My baby!" she shrieked and rushed into the room and then out of the window.

Midoya made a retching sound and buried her face into his neck.

"My baby!" Miharu Kito screamed, rushing past them and knocking into Kuroro in her frantic rush to be eaten. "My baby!"

"Okay…" Kuroro muttered, pushing himself off the doorframe where he had fallen.

"My baby!" Miharu Kito shrieked, knocking him over again.

"Right." Kuroro moved away from the door, pressing himself against the wall next to the doorframe. "We are definitely leaving."

"My baby!" Miharu Kito screamed, rushing past them and throwing herself at the monster. "My baby!"

"Now, leave now," Midoya gasped, her face drawn and white with horror. "I don't want to see this anymore. I don't want to see this anymore. Please. Kuroro…"

"Consider it done," Kuroro said as he dodged the maniacally grinning woman and ran out into the front of the shop. Side-stepping fallen shelves, he stepped out into the street, hoping against hope they wouldn't run into an entire horde of that same monster.

When his feet hit the asphalt, he stopped, because the streets did not look the same anymore. Previously, the streets had been grey and foggy, the tall skyscrapers of York Shin barely visible in the mist. Now, it was entirely dark. Not dark as in 'night-time' dark, but dark as in 'I might as well be blind' dark. The only light provided were from the street lamps, which each threw a spotlight onto the ground that unnaturally only lit up that perfect circle. Beyond that, Kuroro might as well be blind. He glanced behind, and to his discomfort, the shop they had been in had disappeared.

"This is going to get dangerous," he whispered into the top of Midoya's head. "Do not let go of me."

"Okay," Midoya replied in a very tiny voice and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck.

Cautiously, Kuroro took a step forward and leapt straight into the nearest circle of light. As he passed through the darkness, he could have sworn shadow hands clutched at him.

"Okay. Definitely not creepy," he muttered. Taking a deep breath, he leapt for the next circle of light. Fingers, cold as ice, ran through his hair in the darkness, but his hair was still perfectly slicked back when he landed in the light.

Well. No point taking his time about this.

Quickly, he leapt from spotlight to spotlight, revelling in the light and trying not to think about what might be living in the dark. Trying to concentrate on not losing his footing and on the tiny form shivering in his arms. Trying to…

"Oh dear god, Kuroro," Midoya gasped in his ear suddenly. "Look."

Kuroro looked behind, wondering if he would see an army of shadows clawing out of the darkness to feast on their flesh. But he saw nothing.

"What?" he asked.

"There. Under that street lamp, two lamps back."

Then Kuroro saw it. A pair of red heels, neatly placed under the spotlight.

"That wasn't there before," he said.

"No," Midoya replied, clutching at the fur on his coat. "I saw them just now. There are always two lamps behind us. They appear when I'm not looking and disappear when I blink. What are they?"

"Harmless - if they don't catch up."

"Then you should hurry."

"Right." Kuroro continued on, leaping from spotlight to spotlight, deliberately not looking back as he did. "Are they still there?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Still two lamps behind?"

"Yeah." She sounded terrified.

"Good." Grimly, Kuroro continued forward. Even as he did, he found himself looking around for a place they could stop at. There was no point just jumping from spotlight to spotlight. They needed to get indoors, away from danger, away from those shoes. But he could not see past the darkness and he dared not risk walking blindly into them. They had to continue moving, to keep jumping from spotlight to spotlight, rushing through the infinite circles of light rolled out before them like the highway to hell.

Abruptly, all the lights went out.

"Oh!" Midoya cried in his ear and clung to him harder.

"Don't let go," Kuroro told her urgently and ran forward blindly. Eventually, he would hit a building. He had to hit a building. This was York Shin, for goodness sake, there were more buildings than people in this city. He had to find a building soon. He had to find shelter…

_Tap. Tap. Tippity. Tap. _

Midoya sucked in a gasp of horror. "Footsteps," she whispered weakly.

"It didn't sound that close," Kuroro muttered.

_Tap. Tap. Tippity. Tap. _

"Getting closer," Midoya whispered, her voice shaky with terror. "It's getting closer."

_Tap. Tap. Tippity. Tap. _

Kuroro put in an extra burst of speed, pushing himself as hard as he dared.

_Tap. Tap. Tippity. Tap. _

His legs were burning. His chest was on fire.

_Tap. Tap. Tippity. Tap._

There was no end to this darkness. It went on and on.

_Tap. Tap. Tippity. Tap._

Were they even still in York Shin? Had they been dragged into another dreamscape?

_Tap. Tap. Tippity. Tap._

He was going to run out of energy. By god, he was going to burn out soon.

_Tap. Tap. Tippity. Tap._

How was that possible? He could run for days. He could run for weeks. Where was all his energy? Where was all his strength?

_Tap. Tap. Tippity. Tap._

It did not make sense. Nothing made sense. What was going on? What was going on? What. Was. Going. On?

A cold hand clamped onto his shoulder.

"In your dreams," Kuroro gasped and pulled out his book.

The next instance, he was standing in an empty convenience store, clutching the young child in his arms. Slowly, he let his book go and sank to his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around her. What had happened to him? Why did he feel so weak? But of course he felt weak. He hadn't felt such terror in a very long time. He hadn't felt so helpless in a very long time. He hadn't felt so…

Wait a second.

That was totally not him.

Kuroro's eyes narrowed. When had he ever felt like such a wimp before? Never, that's when. Something had gotten into him. Something was messing with his mind. Something had made him panic like that. Something had made him lose control.

"Um… Kuroro?" Midoya said, slowly entangling herself from his arms and backing away. "Don't… uh… I think… I think you shouldn't… move."

Kuroro froze, staring at her. "What?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

"Just don't move," she said, bending over and picking up a metal pipe. "Don't."

Kuroro stared at her in confusion, but she looked unseeingly past him. "Okay. Alright." He took a deep breath. "Aim carefully," he managed to say before she swung the pipe at him with a coordination she didn't have just a few hours ago.

Something flew off his shoulder and landed a distance away with a wet thud. Immediately, that unfamiliar veil of terror lifted off him, only to be replaced by an awkward embarrassment over his unseemly reaction. What on earth had that been about? It really should have taken more than invisible stalkers and utter darkness to scare the Dancho of the Genei Ryodan.

Kuroro turned to look at what Midoya had knocked off his shoulder, just in time to see a hand, slender and pale, dissolving into a puddle of blood that smelled disturbingly like sweet, expensive perfume.

"L… looks like Mother's hand," Midoya said, dropping the pipe. "Weird thing to say, but it did."

"Ah." Kuroro rubbed his shoulder where the hand had been. "Just out of curiosity, was your mother the kind who could drive you absolutely bat-shit crazy?"

"Oh, like you can never imagine."

"Well, that explains a lot."

"A lot of what?"

"Nothing." Kuroro glanced at his wet palms then wiped them on his trousers. "Now, where are we?" He glanced around the convenience store, taking in the overturned shelves, puddles of dark liquid on the ground and the bulletproof glass counter with an intricately designed blade stuck right through the glass. It could have been any one of the millions of convenience stores in York Shin city.

"Kuroro."

Was there a back door to this place? There should be one. There might even be some form of transport out there. A car perhaps, or a bicycle?

"Kuroro."

A car would be infinitely useful in this situation. In the event that the strange darkness descended again, at least they would be in a relatively confined space – not that he could trust anything in this dreamscape. For all he knew, cars in this dimension ate humans for snackies…

'Kuroro!"

Tiny fingers dug with a sudden fierceness into his side and he jumped. "Ow!" Kuroro complained, rubbing his abused kidneys. "What was that for?"

"Look," Midoya said, pointing towards the entrance of the store. "Look."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Midoya agreed, and backed away from the giant, faceless face staring at them from beyond the open doors.

Unlike the tiny store window they had last seen the monster trying to fit through, the door was big enough to accommodate its head. Yet, it remained on the outside, staring in at them with those strange bumps that held a suggestion of eyes. Its gaping mouth opened and closed listlessly like a fish in a bowl, and it tilted its head left and right as if the light in the store confused it. Hesitantly, it pressed its massive head gently against the door, and its flesh seemed to compress like a ball of jelly. But instead of pressing forward, it retreated. The swaying of its head grew more agitated and it wailed a pitiful, heart-wrenching wail – a child calling for its mother.

"Oh," Kuroro repeated, suddenly enlightened. "Oh I am surprised I did not recognise it earlier."

"What?" Midoya looked up at him incredulously. "You've seen this monster before?"

"Yes, indeed I have, but in a much smaller form." Kuroro leaned forward and studied the faceless features. "It's a foetus. A giant, carnivorous foetus." He glanced at Midoya's look of wide-eyed shock. "I've seen them lying around Meteor City. It's startling what you can find abandoned in discarded refrigerators and shoe boxes."

"A foetus," Midoya said, her eyes still wide with shock. "A foetus. Oh. Oh, my baby. My baby. Oh no. I get it now."

"What?" Kuroro asked. "What do you get?"

"I get it now." Midoya looked up at him and her eyes were bright with tears. "I know who she is."

The foetus's face suddenly focused onto Midoya.

"I know you," Midoya said to it, letting go of Kuroro's coat and approaching it. "I know you though I've never met you."

"Midoya, stay away…"

"I know you," Midoya repeated. "My sister."

A quaver ran through the foetus and it pushed its head against the door frame.

"Midoya," Kuroro said warily. "What do you mean? You don't have any siblings. That I know of at least."

"Yes, I don't," Midoya agreed. "Because my only sister died before she was born. A miscarriage. Slipping out from the safety of the womb before she was ready. Already dead before she could draw her first breath of air. Gone, before she was even named." She took another step towards the foetus. "I've never met you but I think of you very often," she murmured. "When Mother was carrying you, she used to come to me all the time, gushing non-stop about you. Oh, she had such high hopes for you. You were going to be a ballerina or a singer, an actress or a painter. You would marry a king and be a queen. You would be famous. You would be beautiful. You would be normal. You would be… perfect."

The foetus rammed its head against the door-frame, incomplete limbs straining as it struggled to push itself through.

"Perfect," Midoya repeated, a look of immense sadness on her face. "Mother, pregnant with my perfect baby sister. It made me think. Because you see, my mind… it is not normal. I do not see things that normal people do, I do not think like normal people. I see patterns. Patterns and webs. Links and connections. I see… things, things that glow in the dark and tell me stories of time long past. Something in my genes made me… odd. It is lonely being odd. In the asylum, I was even lonelier. So I started to dream. What would it be like to have a younger sister? A loving, adoring younger sister who would follow me wherever I go. She would be pretty, I decided, pretty and smart and loyal. She would never judge me for who I am, or what I am. I could tell her everything. She will listen, she will understand, and she will bear my secrets. We could share anything with each other. We would help each other in every way we could. We would be the best of friends."

The foetus's skull compressed as it started to shove its way through. The opening seemed just a fraction too small though, and it made a desperate, pleading sound.

"But you see," Midoya went on, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But you see… I also knew, deep inside, that once you were born, I would be forever condemned to my fate. You will be the new heir to the Kito estate and I will become truly redundant. Not even an heir solely in name. Not… anything. Father would have no reason, none at all, to ever take me out of the asylum. And I would never be able to find someone to help me escape. Not without the leverage of being heir."

The door frame started to crack and blood leaked through, running along the walls in straight, horizontal lines as if in defiance of gravity.

"I knew all that," Midoya repeated, "and therefore I knew I would never be able to have a sister." Her eyes grew harsh. "And so when Mother came to me weeping about your death, I rejoiced. I celebrated. Oh sister, I was so happy when you died. So very happy. Oh sister… oh my poor sister, my poor little baby sister. I am so sorry. So very sorry."

Blood rolled over their ankles in waves and the foetus screamed.

"You must never forgive me. Never forgive me," Midoya whispered – and that was the last Kuroro saw of her before the foetus exploded in a fury of blood, washing the both of them away.

* * *

"_Alas, I have truly bad news for all today. The last I spoke to all, it was to announce the impending arrival of my new daughter. I am now greatly aggrieved to have to inform you that my happy pregnancy has ended prematurely. This has caused me immense sadness as my only other child, my precious Midoya, is constantly away at her boarding school. Her re-education is necessary to nurture her into the perfect daughter and wife. However, as her mother, I have missed her dearly and had hoped that the arrival of a second child would ease my loneliness._

_Unfortunately, my husband disagreed. Midoya's waywardness has led him to believe that any child I bear will be damaged, spoiled. So, he had chosen to terminate my pregnancy without my consent. Kind man that he is, he made sure I was unaware and unconsciousness until the entire procedure was over. When I woke up, I was, as you can imagine, terribly upset that my child, my baby is dead. However, I assure you that I am not angry at my husband at all. He is a great man and as his loyal and obedient wife, I must trust in his judgement. _

_The fault, I am sad to say, lies with Midoya. If she had only been a little more obedient, a little less inclined to damage her delicate feminine mind with the masculine pursuits of science and philosophy, my husband would not have believed that my womb is as tainted as it is. Hence, though it pains me to admit it, despite my natural maternal love for my daughter, I cannot help wishing that she were dead." _

Announcement written but never made by Miharu Kito about her unfortunate miscarriage


	7. At Last, a Clue

A/N: Hiya folks! Hope you enjoy this new chapter! There's going to be a lot of talking because explanations are now being made. Warning though, there is gore and other disgusting stuff in here. Read at your own risk!

Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter, _Logic of Sense_, and any other books/movies/songs etc referenced in this story (other than _The Inaccessible Unconscious_) do not belong to me.

* * *

At Last, a Clue

The apartment was empty and Kurapika could not be happier. There was already one man several floors up who was dead because of him; he would rather not have another.

Leaning against a sturdy, cream coloured wall, Kurapika closed his eyes and tried to forget the sensation of hot blood splattering onto his skin, tried to erase the memory of such an ordinary face made extraordinary by the shock of death. And that man… that _monster_ looking so… so _bored_ with that he had just done. So bored. So… normal.

A shudder shook his entire body badly enough that he ended up curled up on the floor in an exhausted, quavering pile.

He had ran. Of course he had ran. What else was he to do? Stay and risk being captured again? There was nothing more he could have done for that poor man, nothing that would have mattered anyway. So he had ran, bolted as the crazy, homicidal man advanced on him, fled with the kind of speed and frenzy only sheer primal terror could inspire. He had run out into the corridors of the building (thank god he was no longer in the 'elevator' access only floors), going into Zetsu, fleeing as fast as he could. Now, he was hidden in another apartment, hoping against hope that he had managed to lose him. That man. That murderous monster. Good lord, he did not even know his name and he was terrified of him.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Kurapika forced himself to sit up. Wiping perspiration off his forehead with his sleeve, he leaned against the wall and tried to get his mind to focus properly, to see past the fear.

What… what was he to do now?

Alright, assuming he had managed to escape his pursuer… What were the routes he could take? Return and try to free Midoya? Return and try to kill… that Spider? Call the police? Call Senritsu for help? Call… no, not them. He would not put them in trouble again. What should he do then? Was there a way of turning the tables on his enemy? He had seen enough of that man's skills to know he was at a level beyond what Kurapika could manage at the moment – especially since he couldn't use Chain Jail on him. How about Midoya? What should he do about her? Perhaps he should…

But no. He was going about things the wrong way. Action was not the first move. Knowledge was. The first thing he had to figure out was what the hell was going on in the first place.

Kurapika opened his eyes and stared fixedly at the wall in front of him. That was it. What on earth was going on? All he had wanted to do was come here to seek information from Midoya. Suddenly, he had been dragged into something he could not even begin to explain. Kuroro Lucifer was here, as was that… whoever he was. And those dreams. That strange dreamscape. What exactly were those? That man had called it D.I.P. and had described something out of a horror film, but that didn't even begin to explain exactly what was going on.

If he wanted to help Midoya, he had to know how to reverse whatever it was that had happened to her. How was he to find what he needed to know?

Her baby. Midoya's baby.

Kurapika tilted his head. That's what that man had said. Midoya's baby. Midoya had created it. That sounded... of course! Kurapika thumped his head against the wall. He had read about this before. Why had he not made the connection earlier? Midoya was really Dr Midoya Kito, wasn't she, even if she hardly used that prefix? She was, if memory served, a world-renowned Nen-technology expert. That was, for a field of science populated strictly by Nen-user, a surprisingly large community. Kurapika had once happened upon Midoya's CV and it had listed fields of study ranging from Biomedical Neural Research to York Shinian Nineteenth Century Literature to the Physics of Inter-dimensional Travel. However, what she was most well-known for was her research into and inventions of Nen Technology. At that time, he hadn't really looked into it, but if she was as famous as some sites claimed then…

She would be on the Internet.

Immediately, Kurapika leapt to his feet. The Internet! This was a modern apartment inhabited by modern York Shiners. There must be a computer and WIFI in this place. Feeling just a bit guilty, he started to throw open doors, struggling not to take in too much of someone else's private space but trying to look out for a computer at the same time.

Eventually, he located what must be a study room with sleek, black furniture and a very modern looking PC. Even better, it was a PC with no password on it. And it loaded like a dream. A good one. Not the nightmarish ones he had been kicked out of.

Typing in 'Midoya Kito and D.I.P.' into the search bar produced a whole slew of results, ranging from news reports of her latest exploits to what was obviously tabloid trash. Sifting through them gave him much more information about her private life than he would have ever wanted to know - including rumours about her alleged affair with Ging Freecs (good lord, he prayed Gon would never run across this; the details were just… no. No. Just no.) and a blurry picture that alleged to be Midoya skinny dipping in Urubia with Illumi Zoldyck (not that he could tell; the details were that bad). Well, he was obviously not going to find anything useful here.

_Try the Hunter website, silly_, a voice said in his head and Kurapika nodded absently in agreement.

The results were instantaneous.

The very first headline he saw read "The Inaccessible Unconscious" by Midoya Kito. The next, "D.I.P. and the Effects on the Traumatised Mind", also by Midoya. The third one was an internal Hunter Association newsletter that read "Hunter Research Facility on the Unconscious Closed". The last entry was not an article but a picture. It featured what appeared to be a man in a white laboratory coat. His face was twisted in agony, his eyes wide and staring, mucous and blood streaming out of his flared nostrils and snarling mouth. In his hand, he held a scalpel which he had driven into his skull as if he had wanted to saw the top half of his head off. On his torn and tattered T-shirt, someone had written, in what seemed to be blood "Here there be monsters".

Shaking off the chills running down his spine, Kurapika clicked on the first headline. An article, written by Dr Midoya Kito (M.A. Phi) jumped onto screen.

"_Dreams are the royal road to the unconscious." That was what Freud wrote in the The Interpretation of Dreams. The Unconscious, our little store of dirty secret; a vault for every filthy, repressed thought we had never dared voice. Store. Vault. Road to - and presumably, road from. What exactly is the Unconscious? Is it an abstract concept or a physical entity? Is it literal or metaphorical? Did we even know it existed before Freud so cruelly popularised it? And does the knowledge of the Unconscious itself generate the Unconscious, forces it upon us, and demands we spend every waking hour imagining our minds being structured as such. Freud, Freud, Freud, I hear you deplore. Has he not been written to death? His corpse studied, scrutinised, dissected and put under the microscope? Has not every inch of his theories been beaten to death with a huge mallet? _

_Even so, it is curious, so very curious that I still wish to plunge into this particular pit of hell. For even as we are told we can never access it – nonetheless, deep in our souls (out Unconscious perhaps), we seek what must never be spoken, that which must be hidden and never recognised, never brought to light. So curious… that we always seek the dark and what we might find there. It is like we always search for that which would prove how truly terrible our minds are. _

Kurapika blinked and shook his head. He hadn't read a book on Philosophy in a while and her writing style came across as awfully bizarre to him – not so much an academic treatise but the ramblings of a… well… a mad person or a pure genius – he could not tell which. So, he moved on to the next tab. An article, now written by Dr Midoya Kito (PhD Nen Nanotech).

"_What happens to a mind that has witnessed too much trauma, that has seen more death and destruction than it can bear, that has felt so much pain and humiliation that it would rather die? What happens to a mind where horrors and desires, filth and pain, can no longer be contained? The Unconscious is full to the brim and spilling over into the Conscious, and slowly but surely, the Conscious starts to break down. Dreams become reality, and reality seems but a passing illusion. The mind shatters, and all that makes us human disappears forever. _

_Is that really so? Can the sane mind, the one that recognises rules and regulations, that understands laws and boundaries, be saved? Can modern medicine actually fix what technically can't break for it has no corporeal existence? _

_That is an intriguing question and one that can be answered only if the Unconscious can be found. _

_How does one find what is random? Multiple parts of the brain are implicated in dream-formation. No one knows where the Unconscious is or even if it exists. And even if it does, how is one to conquer it? The Unconscious does not obey laws, it does not obey rules, and it certainly does not obey commands. If Medicine is defined by logic, rationality and reason then the Unconscious is, by default, the embodiment of flux, chaos and irrationality. _

_Two opposite ends – with no compromise in sight. _

_Add Nen in though and you get something different. Now, Nen is a very curious force. We know how to bring out its potential, we know how to harness it and we know how to use it – often in ways that defy all laws of physics, biology and every other field of science you can think of. Yet, those who study it cannot really define it. Certainly, we understand it is a form of energy, one that is generated by the mitochondria in our cells. Yet, we cannot explain why all humans cannot use it innately. Nor can we explain why it manifests in such different ways for every individual. Though we roughly divide these manifestations into six different categories (i.e. Enhancers, Specialists etc), the truth is, unlike blood types, most people don't fall neatly into a single category. How each individual ends up developing certain categorical traits is also a mystery. Yes, genetics play a role, as does the environment the child is brought up in – but these factors are not always accurate in influencing a child's Nen development (studies done previously have put the chances of predicting a child's abilities based on nature and nurture at about 60% on average; ref. Dr Quincy "Genetic and Environmental Factors Influencing the Development of Specialist Nen"). In short, Nen is a mysterious random force. _

_However, this randomness is precisely what the broken mind needs. To fix the traumatised mind, one had to enter the Unconscious. The problem is that the Unconscious cannot be accessed as long as the Conscious is awake. Everyone from Freud to modern Neuro-Nenists have agreed that the only way to access the Unconscious is through dreams. Unfortunately, that has never been successful. For the Unconsciousness cannot be controlled; it is random and hidden. Also, even asleep, the Conscious mind is awake and processing external stimuli, so every attempt to control the Unconscious is foiled by the wakefulness of the Consciousness. Nen bypasses that precisely because it is random. Its randomness prevents the Conscious mind from recognising it fully as it does not follow the logic and rationality of the Conscious mind. Its randomness also allows it to enter an Unconsciousness that can be controlled precisely because Nen's randomised 'logic'(for lack of a better word) is similar to the illogic of the dream world. _

_In short, Nen can be used to access the Unconscious." _

Kurapika looked up from the screen, his eyes wide, as he uttered a loud curse that was a vulgar term for copulation (and which he then took back because it is not polite to say such things even when alone).

Even off the cuff, he could think of many implications for this study. A technology that could access the Unconscious could be used for so many things. Yes, as Midoya's research showed, it could cure the 'broken' mind, people suffering from PTSD and various other forms of emotional and psychological trauma. But… surely it could be used as a military weapon too. To alter the Unconscious meant being able to alter the secret desires that drove people without them realising it. It could be used to brainwash millions, influencing their actions in such subtle ways that they wouldn't even realise it. This research…

Kurapika scrolled down, scanning through the article which was filled with more scientific jargon until he saw pictures. The first was the picture of what looked like an insect… a tick of some sort, barely half an inch long as indicated by the ruler it was lying next to. Under it, the captions read 'Dream Initiation Programme – antenna'. The next picture showed another insect, about the same size but different in appearance from the first. Its captions read 'Dream Initiation Programme – controller'. Finally, at the bottom, a picture of Midoya. She was wearing a white lab coat over a black dress and appeared to be caught in a candid moment, bent over a table and discussing something with a man in a white lab coat. A very familiar man.

"Oh my god," Kurapika muttered. That was the blonde man who had attacked them! Apparently he was… Pariston Hill. Oh… familiar. Why was that name so familiar?

No, that was not important. He had to find a way to get Midoya out of the dream. He might not be strong enough to fight this Pariston Hill, but he was certain Midoya was. He had seen her fight, had seen her walk through death and fire as if it were nothing… had seen her rip the face off a powerful Nen-user with a smile on her face. If anyone could take this monster down, it was her.

Quickly, Kurapika scrolled down until he saw the caption 'Procedure'. This portion was much easier to read, especially since it came with pictures. The antenna was inserted into the person whose dream was to be accessed… it was possible to link dreams together by inserting another antenna into a person lying not more than 2 metres away. The dreams would be connected but if the disconnection was not done properly, the possibility of a mental breakdown by both subjects was close to 99%. It was also possible that someone without an antenna but standing within the 2 metre range to the subjects could get dragged into a shared dream. The link was more tenuous… could be expelled fairly easily from the dream, such as by experiencing a shock or dying in the dream… not applicable to the subjects with antenna in them. They might go into a coma if they die in the dream… right, so no killing Midoya in her dream. The only way to save her was to get that antenna out of Midoya. It must be on her somewhere.

There was more information he wanted to read, but there wasn't the time to do it now. He would have to print it out and read it later. Getting up from the comfortable chair, Kurapika fumbled with the fairly thick stack of papers, stuffing them into whatever empty pockets he had. The good thing about these suits he had taken to wearing – they had far more pockets than his traditional outfits did.

A footstep – soft and almost inaudible in the living room.

Kurapika froze in place, his heart pounding. He could not sense any presence in the room – yet he had heard that footstep clearly. There was a Nen-user in Zetsu in the living room.

Pariston Hill was here.

Struggling to keep his Nen and breathing steady, Kurapika started looking around for a window but couldn't find any. The attached toilet had a small window for ventilation, but looking out of it, Kurapika saw that there were no handholds at all.

Heart pounding with fear and desperation, Kurapika got off the toilet bowl and looked around urgently for a way – any way out of this room. But he was trapped. There was no way out but through the door. Could he run again? Could he be lucky enough to escape the man a third time?

No. He did not believe so.

There was nothing to do. He had to stand and fight.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kurapika raised his right hand out and flooded it with Nen. Slowly, he exhaled, letting the Dowsing Chain drop at the same time. In that same instant, he felt the Nen-user outside turn his attention to him.

No point hiding now. "Come on," he said, loud enough that the person outside must have heard him. "I'm here. Come get me."

Footsteps, slow and steady, made their way towards him. The door knob rattled and started to turn. Kurapika took another breath and let his chain float to life. Very slowly, the door slid open – and yellow, baleful eyes met his. A large, cavernous mouth opened – and said:

"Sir, you called?"

* * *

There was blood dripping out of his ears, hair, nose and clothes. Coughing drew out blood-tinged phlegm as did blowing his nose. Even more disgustingly, none of all that blood was his.

"Oh, how foul," Kuroro muttered, trying in vain to squeeze blood out of his hair. "This is the grossest thing that has ever happened to me." Frowning, he looked around, trying to figure out where that unpleasant foetus had swept them to.

The first thing he noticed was that he was indoors but not in the convenience store they had been hiding in – he was in some sort of modern building that seemed to be made up of mostly corridors and doors. The carpet beneath his feet was lush and soft to the touch. The wallpapers were a rich burgundy colour, interrupted at regular intervals with lovely, delicate paintings of people in sensual positions. The doors lining the corridor, which seemed to run to eternity, were simple in design, white with gold trimmings, yet somehow they projected an air of elegance. The air was heavy with the aroma of sickly sweet roses and sex.

The second thing he noticed was that it was freezing cold. Quite literally. Every inch of the corridor was covered with a thin layer of frost. Large, sharp icicles thrust out from the ceilings and walls, turning the corridor into a beautiful but treacherous path. The slightest misstep would probably result in him being impaled on an icicle as thick as his thigh. And it was _so _cold.

"Brrr," Kuroro complained and wrapped his coat tighter around himself. Where on earth was he anyway? The décor looked like something out of a modern, expensive hotel. The climate was of the kind Kuroro had never seen outside of documentaries.

Cautiously, he approached a door and placed a hand against it. Immediately, he drew away because he hadn't expected the door to feel warm – not unbearably so – but enough to shock his frozen, numb fingers. With even more caution, he touched the door again – and pushed.

The door swung open easily and Kuroro peered inside.

At first, he couldn't see much in the room. It was dark, so much so that he only got the vaguest impression of the same icicles that spanned the corridor outside and the outline of furniture. A chair in that corner, a table in the other, and right in the middle of the room, a bed.

Someone moaned.

As if a switch had been flicked, a spotlight sprang to life, beaming down onto the bed where two figures lay intertwined with each other. Limbs tangled, naked bodies pressed together, red lips kissing and sucking, hairy, sweaty hands groping and squeezing. One form was female, supple and slim, all long smooth limbs and gorgeous breasts. Her face was beautiful, something out of a fairy-tale – complete with fang-lined mouth, forked tongue and silver eyes. The other form was male – hyper-masculine, all bulging muscles and hairy limbs – with the face of a snarling wolf. Wet, sucking sounds filled the room as they copulated madly, claws and fangs drawing blood, lips drawn back in screams of pain and pleasure. The air was filled with the sickening smell of sex and death as they splattered blood everywhere in their pursuit of greater sensations.

"Oh, do pardon me," Kuroro said politely and closed the door.

The next three doors revealed pretty much of the same: creatures straight out of fairy tales before they were cleaned up by modern day censorship. As far as Kuroro could tell, they were more interested in copulating roughly and bloodily than in chasing him, which was just as well. He wasn't that interested in them either.

However, based on what he was seeing and the décor of the place sans icicles and unpleasant smells, he could guess where he was. It would be nice if child-Midoya was here to confirm it for him though. Speaking of child-Midoya, where was she anyway?

Abruptly, a hand shot out of an open door and gripped his ankle tightly. Startled, Kuroro glanced down at the tiny hand clutching the leg of his pants.

"Help me," child-Midoya hissed.

"Hello Midoya, what are you doing down there?" Kuroro asked bemused.

She fixed him with a glare that almost rivalled her adult-self. "Getting… attacked!" she uttered through gritted teeth.

Finally, Kuroro realised that she was lying flat on the ground, one hand gripping his pants and the other the carpet. His eyes followed down the length of her body, still clad in his shirt, to the large, bloody, clawed hand wrapped around her knee.

A male face snarled at him; bright green eyes, a large, fleshy nose, fat lips and a heavy, bulldog-like face. Somehow, despite the glaring dissimilarities, Kuroro still managed to see the vague resemblance to Midoya.

"Oh well, you should have said so," Kuroro said mildly and kicked the face violently.

It roared at him furiously – and giant vines erupted from the room, whipping around Kuroro and the child lying prone on the ground. The weight of the vines, some as thick as his torso, was almost unberable as they slammed into him, grabbing what they could and crushing what they couldn't.

"Eew," Kuroro muttered and summoned his book immediately.

A vine whipped around his hand, twisting it violently and sending a heavy jolt of pain up his arm. His book slid out of his suddenly lifeless hand and disappeared. Another much bigger vine wrapped around him, forcing his arms to his side.

"Uh oh," Kuroro managed to mumble before a third vine encased his face, cutting off his oxygen. "Mmpf," he protested, and was tempted to panic a little. But it seemed without the help of Midoya's half-insane mother, he couldn't really summon the needed energy to do so.

Suddenly, a loud, guttural, and definitely male scream ripped through the air and the vines lifted off him. Oxygen, rancid with the smell of decay, rushed into his lungs and Kuroro coughed violently. Before he could recover, a vine knocked him over and he fell to his knees. He rolled away to avoid being trapped again, but the vines didn't seem inclined to be clingy any longer.

Through the dim of the screams and the thrashing vines, Kuroro heard the distinctive pop of a low calibre gun being fired.

Cautiously, he looked up.

A figure stood over the monster, one expensively-heeled foot on its back. His eyes went up from the fashionable shoes to a definitely female, deliciously curvy body clad in a perfectly-fitted lilac-coloured suit, and a small, pearl-handled gun in one manicured hand.

"Oh for goodness sake, Father," a cold, clipped voice said. "You've always been a stereotype of patriarchal violence but this form you're in now is just too clichéd. Go back to where you come from now. Go on. Shoo." The last word was punctuated with a bullet through the head.

The monster roared and tried to reach for her– and she fired again, calmly and coolly and repeatedly until she ran out of bullets. Then with the same nonchalance, she flicked the spent casings out and slipped fresh bullets in. Yet again, the monster screamed in agony when she resumed firing. On and on, she continued, only pausing to reload her gun. Eventually, despite the low-calibre of the gun, the monster stopped moving. With magnificent, gorgeous cruelty, she wiped her foot on the monster's face and turned around to face Kuroro. Then her eyes flicked to the side as child-Midoya emerged from the lifeless pile of dead flesh on top of her.

"Wh… who are you?" child-Midoya gasped, her eyes wide with shock and her face drenched with blood. "Are you… are you me?"

"No," Kuroro said, getting to his feet. "Not you. Not precisely at least." Making sure to keep his hands by his side and visible, he gave the figure a cool nod. "Hello," he said. "It's good to meet you again."

The figure pointed the gun at him and tilted her head in what could have been a reciprocal nod or a grimace of disgust. "Good to see you too," June Kito said – and gave a smile as cold as death.

* * *

Normally, a pistol with a mother-of-pearl handle and a barrel the length of a dainty lady's purse is not much of a threat. When you're staring down the business end of one though, it can look a lot more intimidating. That is especially the case when the person wielding it is the head of a powerful and rich family with a reputation for cruelty and ruthlessness. Her stare was enough to put even a hardened killer like Kuroro on edge.

So, he deliberately looked past the gun to stare at the woman wielding it.

In the real world, June Kito looked a lot like Midoya – a cleaned up, neater version of Midoya. After all, they shared the same body and any alterations Midoya made to her appearance when she put on her mafia-face had to be done through make-up, discreet, supportive under-garments and acting skills so brilliant it had developed its own personality. A corset gave her a smaller waist and bigger breasts. Layers upon layers of foundation and concealer hid her naturally acne-scarred face. Subtle eye makeup and contouring altered her face, making her eyes appear naturally bigger and her face naturally slimmer.

Here, in the dream world of Midoya's unconsciousness, none of that was necessary. What should have been foundation-covered skin was perfect, pore-less, snowy skin covered literally in frost. The long, dark lashes were natural and adorned not with mascara, but with a light dusting of snowflakes. From the way she walked, Kuroro knew she was not wearing a corset around her slim waist. In fact, even her limbs were slimmer than Midoya's normally were. This was the June Kito of Midoya's imagination – the June Kito that the real world would see if Midoya wasn't constrained by her own physical appearance.

How surprising that she resembled her Mother so much – except for the eyes – cold, black eyes, like beetles sitting within her sockets.

"So," Kuroro said finally. "I suppose I was expecting to run into you eventually. After all, we are in Midoya's mind and you are an integral part of who Midoya is."

June Kito smiled humourlessly. "I wouldn't flatter myself into thinking that I matter that much," she said, her voice clipped and harsh, "though I would loathe to imagine how disorganised the Kito Enterprises will be if Midoya was the one in control."

"Ah," Kuroro said knowingly. "Well then. So here you are now. Where is 'here' exactly?"

"Where else would you find me? The _Velvet House_, of course." June Kito tilted her head at him. "Before it got blown up."

"Hey, that wasn't my fault."

"Oh, of course it was. Imbecile."

"It certainly wasn't. You might accuse of me blowing up the _Rose Petal_, but the _Velvet House was…" _

"Erm, excuse me," Midoya said, stepping between the two of them. "Who… who are you?"

The woman looked at her. "June Kito. Head of the Kito family, owner of over half the red-light district in York Shin City and a very, very successful entrepreneur. Well, Midoya would claim credit for all of that and though I would protest, ultimately, I'm just a front, a mask for her to wear, a little doppelganger to do the jobs she doesn't want to do."

"Like what? Patricide?" Midoya asked faintly, her eyes wandering to the monster sprawled across the corridor.

"Like paperwork," June Kito replied without a trace of irony. Her eyes flicked down the child's length again and she scowled. "I half-expected it would be you."

Midoya blinked and took a step back. "What?" she asked hesitantly.

June Kito leaned over and smiled cruelly. "For all her brilliance and strength and power, the one thing Midoya will never be capable of is getting rid of filthy scum like you." She leaned back on her heels, her eyes chilly with cold malice. "But then, the most difficult parts to remove are always the foul, rotten, gangrenous parts."

Midoya immediately dodged under Kuroro's coat and he smiled genially. "Yes, as I must have mentioned, she is also a very pleasant lady," he added wryly. "Come now, June. Almost everything we've met in this dreamscape has tried to kill us. You, astonishingly enough, have been the exception. So what are you doing here?"

"What I've always done," June Kito replied sharply. "Cleaning up Midoya's mess. You didn't think I've come to see you for fun now, did you, Toy?"

"Toy? My, how flattering." Kuroro quirked an eyebrow at her. "Frankly, I have no idea what you think of me," he said curiously. "I know you are not Midoya, but at the same time you share the same body as her. Given that emotions are but the product of hormones going through the body, does that mean you hold some degree of affection for me?"

At that, June Kito fixed him with a glare that almost turned the blood in his veins to ice. "What do I think of you?" she demanded. "I think you are an absolute twat. You have a perfectly sound brain but you waste it running around with a bunch of misfits and outcasts, and spending your limited lifespan robbing fools. You were, admittedly, granted the gift of natural good looks but you ruin it by dressing like that. All those inverted crosses just scream of adolescent rebellion. And that tattoo. Goodness gracious me; how immature are you? I dread to find out how it would look when you're old and your skin starts to sag. Fore-planning is obviously not your forte. Personality isn't either, since you have the emotions of a rock and the impulse of a caveman. It kills me to have to sit in here and watch every time the two of you have sex which is as often as you reading a book by some out-dated philosopher who thinks he knows how the world works because he _reads_ about it. Boring. Dull. Midoya would have done better dating a sex toy. She could get all the satisfaction she wants from that and she wouldn't have to listen to it dribble."

"Well," Kuroro said, mildly taken aback, "that certainly clears the air. So. About cleaning up Midoya's mess…"

"Have you figured out what's happening?" June Kito asked bluntly.

Kuroro blinked again as he forced his mind to change track in mid-thought. "Somewhat," he answered. "We know that we're in Midoya's dream. Somehow. We're not too sure why though it seems to me that Midoya has been providing some clues along the way. Her past. This woman named Leora. Her mother and father." He paused. "You."

"Huh. Not as stupid as I imagined."

"Why thank you."

"But not as smart either." June Kito smirked at the look on his face and continued. "Three guesses why I'm here, Toy. A clue: they all start with a reference to how incompetent and ignorant you are."

"Yes, thank you, and stop calling me 'Toy'." Kuroro took a deep breath, reminded himself that Midoya needed June Kito to run her economic empire, and tried to put his Benz knife back in his belt. "So, you are here to help. That's good. Help is good. Therefore I shall not kill you or maim you in an unpleasant way."

"And I shall try not to point out how you are not as impressive in the pants as Midoya tells you that you are. Silly girl. She only thinks that she likes what you have because she's fond of you in general. From a more objective perspective – mine – she has had far more impressively endowed sex partners in the past."

"Shall I change my mind about not killing you?"

"So touchy. Have I hit a sore spot? Don't worry – I've been told size is not as important as technique. Oh, but wait, you're not the most technically proficient lover she's ever had either, Mr Premature-Ejaculation-On-The-First-Date."

"Alright," Kuroro said loudly. "I'm going to have to talk to Midoya about doing something about you watching us have sex. This is far too disturbing for me to even feel insulted about."

"Don't flatter yourself. It's not that entertaining watching the both of you. I've seen better performances in old people porn. I mostly stay as far back from the front-line as possible and try not to vomit over my shoes."

"Uh… excuse me?" Both Kuroro and June Kito turned to glare at the child hiding behind his knees, and she cringed. "I get that there's a lot of unresolved tension here," she said, her voice slightly shaky with false courage, "but could we get back to hearing an explanation about what's going on? I think… I think J… uh… June knows."

"Of course I know," June Kito said, scowling. "That's what I'm doing here. Has no one been listening? My god, you're even dumber in person than you are in Midoya's memories." Kuroro opened his mouth to protest but she swept past him to stand in front of the child. "Dream Initiation Programme," she said sharply.

The child somehow managed to retreat several steps without letting go of Kuroro's coat. "What?" she demanded, sounding terrified.

"Oh come on, don't be daft. You've already started daydreaming about this. Dream Initiation Programme. Fixing the broken psyche. You know what I mean."

Midoya's eyes widened. "Oh," she breathed. "I… I succeeded? How?"

"With what drove you insane in the first place of course," June Kito replied. "Nen and your Father's money." She paused. "Well, to be fair, it's mainly money that I made for you so it's technically not your father's money; it's mine, and by default, yours. Huh. I don't quite like being fair. What an unpleasant feeling this is. Ignore what I said." She turned to regard Kuroro. "Dream Initiation Programme, or D.I.P. is one of Midoya's inventions. One of her more infamous ones too and you must have come across it the last time you were looking her up so you can blow up my buildings to show her how much you care."

"Oh for goodness sake…"

"It is mind-control," June Kito said bluntly and Kuroro fell silent. "Oh, in Midoya's mind, I have no doubt she thought of it as something else. But at a very fundamental level, that's what it is. Mind, she started out with the best intentions. You might have heard of those. They're what line the path to hell."

"Yes, I've heard of…"

"She just wanted to know if it was possible to cure insanity. Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. Phobias. It didn't really occur to her what she was messing with. You know how she is; always jumping into the brawl and ending up with a pregnant chamber-maid and a whole new religion dedicated to worshipping her toenails after."

"Yes, yes, I know about that cult. They learned about me and tried to add me to their pantheon of gods that include Pepeka as well. I was forced to wipe the whole lot of them out because I am not donating toenail clippings for them to dance naked around. So you're really preaching to the..."

"I know," June Kito said, her voice calm, and Kuroro blinked when he realised she was smiling a very faint smile that was… well, not friendly, but not… not unfriendly.

"Alright," Kuroro said slowly. "Mind control. Trying to cure insanity. Let me see. Knowing Midoya, it must mean she tried something valiantly, stupidly, arrogantly brilliant. Ah, she tried to access the Unconscious."

"No, she didn't try. She accessed the Unconscious. Successfully. Too successfully. Her test subjects went insane. Her scientists joined them. Some of them at least." June's smile turned into a smirk. "You know how insanity is like – so very contagious."

"It spread?"

"Like wildfire." June gave Kuroro a look. "I'm an entrepreneur; not a scientist. I'm not sure how to explain it. The way Midoya thought of it though was like Wi-Fi. Stick an antenna in one – watch it spread through invisible waves. Either way, people went insane. Many of them died. Those that didn't… well, they ended up like this piece of scum here." She nodded at the child.

"I don't like you," Midoya protested fearfully from behind Kuroro's knees.

"That hasn't changed in over two decades. Now be quiet – the adults are talking."

"Alright, alright. Stop arguing." Kuroro scrutinised June Kito. "You are saying…?"

"Midoya got hit by an antenna," June Kito said frankly. "You and that boy, that disgustingly moralistic filth, got dragged in as well through those… invisible waves… thing. You killed him so he's back in reality. That means he is your best hope of getting out of here."

"Oh heaven's, no. Wait a second. Let me commit suicide and go back to the…"

"You can't." June eyed him. "Not if you want to save Midoya."

"Ugh, a catch. Why is there always a catch?"

"You don't whinge so much when Midoya gets you to do things."

"Well Midoya always asks nicely. Often while performing fascinating sex positions." Kuroro sighed. "Why can't I leave?"

"Because of her good intentions of course. She tried to protect you, even tried to protect that boy, but she didn't have enough time to do it properly. You're entangled in her mind now. If you die in here or in the outside world, a part of her mind dies with you."

"Oh… well. Alright. Fine. What do I have to do then?"

June Kito smirked, obviously taking pleasure in his discomfort. "Come on. It is obvious. You know Midoya is trapped in her own mind."

"Indeed I do."

"Well, then what is trapping her here?"

Kuroro opened his mouth then closed it again.

"The nightmares?" the child ventured hesitantly. "Those… monsters we see around. They've been attacking us."

"No," Kuroro disagreed. "Those monsters are bad, yes, but if I can deal with them, so can Midoya."

"Well… I suppose that is…"

"You can't leave just like that," June Kito sighed. "Really, has anyone been listening at all? You can't leave unless you are killed in this dream or unless Midoya is free to let you out. Get it? Free? She's a prisoner here. A prisoner. So…?"

"So who's the Warden?" Kuroro finished.

"Ah," Midoya said.

"Ah, indeed," Kuroro agreed. "So. Who is the Warden?"

June Kito gave him an irritated look. "The one you have to kill of course," she said. "The controller, the one who put Midoya in this state in the first place, must have an avatar of sorts in here, an anchor that keeps him or her in Midoya's mind."

"I see. So what I have to do is get rid of that avatar."

"Precisely."

"Well," Kuroro said, putting his hands in his pockets, "that doesn't sound so difficult."

"Really? Well, here's a kicker. The avatar could be anybody. It could be, and is most likely, camouflaged perfectly to look like it belongs in the mess that is Midoya's mind. There is only one sure way to get rid of it. You must reveal its identity to Midoya. Once she knows for sure who the avatar is, she can expel him from her mind."

"It still doesn't sound difficult," Kuroro said stubbornly.

"Oh," June Kito said with a chilly smile, "it really isn't going to be easy at all. In fact, I believe it will be quite painful indeed."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because," she said pointedly, "there's a vine wrapped around my ankle."

"Urghg," Kuroro uttered and made a grab for her – but he was too late. In a rush of air, June Kito was swept off her feet and almost smashed against the ceiling as the vine shook her violently by the ankle.

"Oh goodness," Midoya mumbled and stumbled backwards. "Alright, I'm getting out of the way."

"Yes, yes," Kuroro said absently, drawing his Benz as the strange creature that had attacked Midoya roared back to life, filling the entire width of the corridor with powerful, lashing vines. Quickly, Kuroro darted forward in an attempt to reach the surprisingly limp woman but the vines forced him back. "June!" Kuroro shouted as he dodged the vines whipping around him. "You have to help me get an opening!"

"Opening?" June Kito asked, arching an eyebrow at him. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean, do something to attract its attention!"

"What? Like fighting stuff?"

"Fight… what? Fighting stuff? What on earth are you talking about?"

June Kito crossed her arms and somehow managed to look down her nose at him even when dangling upside-down. "If you mean you want me to do something rough and violent to this monster, you're asking the wrong woman. I'm June Kito, entrepreneur, rich heiress, and not a filthy blacklist hunter like my alter ego. I can't tell the difference between a Ko and a Go."

"I think you mean 'Gyo'," Midoya volunteered helpfully.

"Oh no, this is ridiculous!" Kuroro protested, dodging under a flailing vine. "You… you have the same… muscles!"

"But not the same memory," June Kito said calmly. "Especially not in this place. No matter, love. I'll see you in a bit. Go to the top floor."

Kuroro stared in horror. "Did you just call me 'love'?" he demanded, looking appalled.

"Focus, Toy." She pointed a finger. "Top floor. In the meantime…" She pulled out her gun. "Daddy and I are going to have a little talk."

And in amidst the flashes of gun powder, the monster disappeared, surging back into the room and taking June Kito with it.

* * *

"_She does not know it but she is easy to fall in love with. Oh, don't get me wrong; she is very happy with who she is, but she does not know there are others who share that sentiment. That is not a bad thing; it gives her the courage to do what others might balk at. It gives her the courage to die if she needs to._

_I, on the other hand, am incapable of being loved. Nor am I capable of loving. I know this, not because I know who I am, but what I am. I am a puppet created solely to fulfil one function and that is to love, protect and die for no one but myself, and thus by default, her." _

The Musings of a Figment of the Imagination


	8. Insanity and the Special Cuisine

A/N: Hi! Sorry for the super late upload. Ugh, I've been so busy and well… I don't quite like this chapter, but I didn't want to delay uploading anymore. So here it is. Hope it will suffice for now.

Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter, _Logic of Sense_, and any other books/movies/songs etc referenced in this story (other than _The Inaccessible Unconscious_) do not belong to me.

* * *

Insanity and the Special Cuisine it Brings

Having travelled the world for a couple of years now, Kurapika has learned that every society and every city and every country ever formed is made up of some crazy people. There are people driven crazy by greed or power – and there are people who lose their minds to passion; to hate, love and jealousy. There are people who slowly, tortuously go insane and there are those who simply lose all their marbles in one snap instant. The worst kind, in Kurapika's opinion, is the kind who looks over the edge of sanity, sees the horror lying below, and cheerfully leaps right in. Those are the ones who inevitably end up in the news, on the front page, often with a death count in the three digits and a blurry picture that shows the most normal, most benign, and most banal of faces. Fortunately, these are the rarest of breeds and are hardly ever seen.

Thus Kurapika had to admit to being rather horrified to find such a high concentration of them in one building.

"Tea, sir?"

Kurapika glanced to the right as much as he could at the monster who had found him trespassing in the apartment.

"No thank you, Lucy," he managed to say.

"Are you sure, sir?" the monster wearing a French maid outfit asked politely. "It's a lovely blend of Rooibos straight from the Western Cape. It is Lady Camellia's favourite and she often drinks it with a dash of virgin blood. Obtained legally of course; she pays her donors a good price for their precious body fluids."

"No, that's alright," Kurapika uttered through gritted teeth. "I'm allergic to… to blood."

"If you say so, sir. Might I tempt you with a bite of butter fingers then?"

"No, it is _really…_ I really… Don't."

"Are you sure, sir? These are butter fingers of the highest quality, made from the milk of West Kranges Highland cows and the fingers of condemned criminals. They are Sir Galleagarha's favourite bedtime snacks."

"Oh dear lord, that is disgusting! I would rather eat my own foot than eat _that_!"

"Very well sir. It shall be as you instructed. Please excuse me while I remove your shoe so I may sever your foot and prepare it for you. Which foot would you like to have, sir, and how would you like me to prepare it?'

"Are you serious? I don't want to eat my own foot! Stop it and go away!"

"Are you sure? I know a very good recipe for braised foot. It is a succulent and savoury dish made of…"

"I don't want to braise my foot!"

"Are you…"

"Yes, I'm sure! Will you… _shut the hell up?_" Kurapika snapped. "Oh god. Sorry, I did not… please pardon me, but for god's sake…! That is just plain disgusting! Besides, how do you expect me to eat when I'm tied up like this?" He wriggled his arms, strapped to the arms of a heavy leather chair, and his legs, which were cuffed to the legs of the chair, and gave the monster a sharp glare.

"Oh," she replied, and seemed completely nonplussed by his predicament.

Kurapika groaned and let his head hit the back of the chair. What… was happening? One moment, he had been in the apartment, information in hand, ready to actually start saving Midoya. The next, he had woken up to find himself strapped to a heavy leather chair in a room that looked like a… like a… pantry. He glanced at the flask of water in one corner, the fridge in another, and the grey paint on the wall. This was not a place for the rich tenants that bought apartments here – this was obviously the staff's quarters.

"He has a point, Lucy," a deep, gritty, growly voice said. "Leave him be."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurapika saw a huge, _huge_ man walk into the room. He was possibly the largest person Kurapika had ever seen in his life – even larger than Spider number Eleven. His limbs were thick and bulged heavily with muscle. On top of broad shoulders and an almost non-existent neck, a roundish, deformed face sat. Heavy jaws, tiny beady eyes and pitted skin gave the impression of a mutated bulldog.

"Oh, but it seems quite rude not to offer him some refreshments, Julius," Lucy said, her large jaundiced eyes blinking slowly. "Even if he lied about being Miss Midoya's guest."

"I am Midoya's… guest!" Kurapika protested, but they ignored him.

"We can save the fingers for later," Julius, the giant with the deformed face said in a ponderously slow voice. "If he really is Miss Kito's guest, we will release him and he can enjoy whatever cuisine he likes best. If he isn't, we can just leave them as offerings at his unmarked grave. I hope you find that satisfactory, Lucy – and you too, sir." Giving Kurapika a polite bow, he maneuverer his massive bulk into a large chair that was obviously custom-made to fit him and sat down.

"Oh aye, Julius. That makes right sense." Lucy set the tray down and ambled towards Kurapika, her massive head so heavy it forced her bony torso into a permanent hunch. With an incongruous primness, she settled on a chair next to the man so huge he made her seem like a dwarf.

"Good afternoon, sir," the giant said with a bow of his head. "I am Julius, doorman of these apartments. This is Lucy, the head maid in charge of serving the upper floors of the buildings. As I am given to understand, Lucy found you trespassing in Mrs Barter's apartment. She also found the late Mr Menesaki, bless his corrupt capitalist soul, dead in his apartment in a room that has your Nen imprint on it. Would you care to explain before I break your spine thus ending your life forever more?"

Right. Spines. Crazy people. Crazy, _crazy _people.

_No. Crazy but not bad. They were giving him the benefit of the doubt. He had to gain their trust. _

"Yes, please let me explain," Kurapika said quickly, feeling a little short of breath from the tight restraints wrapped around his chest. "I am Midoya's guest. Midoya Kito. She lives above Mr uh… Menesaki. I… We were under attack! I escaped downwards because…"

"Attacked? If you are Miss Kito's guest, why did she not defend you?"

"She was incapacitated by the attacker."

"Oh, that is impossible! How awful of you to make up such lies about Miss Kito!" Lucy cried even as Julius shook his head with a deep chuckle. "Shame on you for lying so!"

"I'm not lying," Kurapika protested. "She was taken off guard."

"Oh! Stop it! How dare you speak so ill of Miss Kito!"

"Miss Kito is… you must not be close to Miss Kito if you don't know how powerful she is," Julius said, still shaking his head. "No one will believe such lies about Miss Kito."

"I'm not lying!" Kurapika shouted in a raspy voice. "Look, if you know her then you know she isn't omnipotent."

"Indeed," Julius consented, "but there are only a few people who could possibly take on Miss Kito and still stand a chance of winning her. Among those few, even fewer would attempt to do so, not since she went public about her relationship with Mr Kuroro Lucifer. Taking on Miss Kito is one thing. To take on Miss Kito and the entire Genei Ryodan… well, only the truly insane would try that."

_Well, that is one way to describe him. _

Kurapika eyed them. "Would a Pariston Hill be one of those?"

Both of them fell silent immediately, their faces frozen into pictures of shock. Then genuine horror filled their features.

"That cannot be," Julius said, actually looking ill. "Why… why would he be here? He has no reason… not since Ms Leora… bless her soul…"

"I'm positive it is him," Kurapika said firmly. "Blonde hair? Brown eyes? A smile as pretty and as sincere as a thief's? Does that sound familiar?"

"Oh. Oh dear," Lucy said, a thin, withered hand held to her cavernous mouth. "Oh dear lord, Julius. If what this young man says is true… I verily believe Miss Kito is in… in a lot of… oh dear. Whatever shall we do? We have to help her, mustn't we? She has always been so kind to us."

"Yes, yes, of course we must," Julius said, his slow, deep voice shaking. "Miss Kito has ever been so kind to us when no one would. She has helped us when no one cared. We must help her. But how, Lucy? How? If it is true… if it is Mr Hill who has her…"

Kurapika's eyes darted between the two frantic people. "Who is this Pariston Hill?" he demanded. "Why are you so afraid of him?"

Both of them stared at him incredulously, as if they could not believe he didn't know. "He's a… a monster," Julius said finally, wringing his hands. "A terrible, horrible monster in ways Miss Kito never was. No, not a monster. Monsters are… he's a demon, sir. An entity of pure… evilness. If he has her… What can we, mere servants, do?" Slowly, like a whale drifting through the oceans, he got to his feet and released Kurapika from his shackles. "Is there any power we can summon that can defeat this monster? I do not know sir, I truly do not know."

Kurapika looked up from rubbing his sore wrists. "Yes, of course there is," he said as if it should be obvious. "Midoya."

Both of them stared at him even harder.

"She's up there, still alive," Kurapika said. "Listen, she was taken off guard. That's how he got her. But if she's alert and ready for him…"

"Miss Midoya would stand a chance," Lucy said hopefully. "Wouldn't she?"

"A chance," Julius agreed. "But how big of a chance would that be, sir? They are, if all factors are taken into consideration, somewhat… matched. But Mr Hill might be stronger. We know almost nothing about his powers so we cannot tell."

"And if her boyfriend is with her?" Kurapika looked between the two and swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat at what he was about to say. "He was taken off guard too, but he's up there, with her. If we can get him out too… well. That is Kuroro Lucifer, Dancho of the Genei Ryodan. Together with Blacklist Hunter Midoya Kito, they would be…"

"Near invincible," Julius finished. He stared at Lucy for a while and she stared back. Very slowly, he inclined his head in a thoughtful nod. "Yes, it could work. If Miss Kito and Mr Lucifer team up… the odds are in Miss Kito's favour. I applaud your genius, good sir."

"Just Kurapika is fine."

"As you say, Kurapika, sir. However, a matter still stands."

"We still need to get them out," Kurapika agreed. "They've been put in a… a coma of sorts, but I… I think I know how to get them out of it. The problem is actually getting close to them." He rubbed his wrists as he thought. "Pariston hasn't come after me. Yes, he followed me a short distance but gave up after. I thought I'd shaken him, but… no. No, that's not it. He stopped following me on his own accord. I am not important to him. He is more concerned with keeping those two under. He's guarding Midoya's penthouse to make sure no one interrupts… whatever he is doing."

"But _whatever_ is he doing?" Lucy asked, looking strangely lost and forlorn for a deformed monster. "I do not understand. Why put Miss Kito in a coma? Is that really what he did? What does he hope to achieve?"

"Finding out whether she likes him, apparently," Kurapika said, still feeling the shock of disbelief at that.

"Oh well, that makes sense, I suppose," Lucy said, nodding sagely. "Miss Kito's new boyfriend has gone through some effort to find out if she likes him too, what with blowing up her buildings and all that. I suppose it can't be helped. A young and pretty lady like Miss Kito must be swimming in suitors. You really have to stand out if you want to grab her attention."

"That is true, Lucy," Julius agreed. "Though it is not proper for a servant to speak so, I must confess I find Mr Lucifer a most outstanding lover. I cannot remember the last time someone has pursued Miss Kito so fervently. It is no wonder she is so fond of him."

"Right," Kurapika muttered and tried to think charitable thoughts about crazy people. Then he remembered that this crazy person in question was his life-long enemy, so he took the liberty of thinking horrible, violent thoughts about him instead. "Listen, I really need to help Midoya. I can't just leave her in his clutches. I don't know what he will do to her. That man is unbalanced. Will you help me?"

"Of course, sir, Kurapika," Julius said, nodding slowly. "We are indebted to Miss Kito in ways you cannot imagine."

"Indeed, sir, Kurapika," Lucy agreed. "You may have noticed that we are monsters, sir, Kurapika. The world today has no place for monsters. Miss Kito gave us one. I haven't gone hungry in ages since she saved my life. We must help her, even if it causes our deaths."

"Of course," Kurapika said, touched despite himself. "Then we need to figure out a way to get into Midoya's penthouse somehow. Is there a way?"

"Well…" Lucy said hesitantly, "if you don't mind me saying sir, Kurapika. That penthouse has been Miss Kito's for years. Only recently has she decided to sell it. It is an address that is available for the public to find. Everyone knows if they want to hire Miss Blacklist Hunter Midoya Kito, they can find her at that penthouse. It's her hideout, her lair, her… well, if you will forgive the turn of phrase, her home."

"Does that mean… there is no easy way in?" Kurapika questioned hesitantly, imagining the number of locks and traps such a place must have.

"No sir, Kurapika, there are actually several ways in," Lucy said matter-of-factly. "There's the window which she never locks, though she does close it occasionally because the breeze can be ghastly, especially at night, and will spoil a young lady's complexion so. There's also the bedroom window which is smaller and harder to climb through, so Miss Kito has padded the sides to make the frame easier to grip. And there's the lift to her penthouse. It goes straight right up to her floor."

Kurapika stared. "Are you serious?" he demanded. "There are no locks on her windows and her lift?"

"Oh, no sir, Kurapika, I assure you that there is a lock on the lift. It's one of them codes. You have to type the code into the keypad to be taken up." Lucy beamed. "The code's her name, sir Kurapika. It's written next to her apartment number in the directory at the lobby."

"W… why on earth would she do that?"

"So her clients and friends wouldn't have difficulty finding it of course, sir Kurapika," Lucy said proudly. "Isn't Miss Kito the most considerate person in the world? Do forgive a mere servant saying so."

"Yes, yes, of course," Kurapika muttered and shook his head. "Alright. There are several ways in. Good. Good. No, it's not good! What is she thinking! She's insane! If everyone knows to find her there then shouldn't she need to protect herself more? That crazy… woman! Alright, not important now." He looked between the two monsters staring back at him. "We need a way to get in past Pariston Hill. That's the difficult part." He took a deep breath. "So. Any suggestions?"

* * *

When Kuroro had last entered the _Velvet House_, he had been unconscious, probably tied up, and likely drooling down the front of his shirt. When he had left the _Velvet House_, he had done so by sliding down the outsides of the building with a deadly assassin chasing after him. Hence, this was the first time he had actually seen the inside of Midoya's largest brothel. It was, he had to admit, a little bit of a disappointment. While the previous two brothels of hers that he had visited were designed around interesting and creative themes, this particular one seemed design to simply look pleasant and expensive.

"Boring," Midoya said, voicing Kuroro's sentiment as she examined the frosted-over insides of the corridor. "Is this really how I design all my brothels in the future?"

"No, this is one of your plainer ones," Kuroro told her comfortingly, deliberately ignoring the crystal chandeliers, the plush carpets and the expensive art works decorating the walls. "It needs a little something more… creative, doesn't it? What do you think?"

"I think it needs dinosaurs," Midoya said decisively. "We could put a giant T-rex right in the lobby. It would look great."

"Ah, I know which movie you're thinking of since you forced me to watch it with you."

"Is it? I love that movie. My favourite scene is when the lawyer gets eaten up by the T-Rex."

"Yes, you did tell me that. I must confess it was a rather entertaining scene. Seeing stupidity punished has always brightened my day even if it was ah… toilet humour, so to speak."

"Oh yes, you are quite right," she agreed. A few heartbeats later, she hesitantly asked, "When did it get so big? This brothel, I mean. When Father was running the family, this was… I mean, it was probably only two stories high. Now, it looks… huge."

Kuroro shrugged. "Some time after you gained power apparently. The news report said you felt that this space was being under-utilised. Unfortunately, a number of buildings were already being built right next to this brothel so you couldn't expand sideways. Stubborn girl that you are, you went up instead. It is one of your biggest brothels now. Well… when I said now, I meant yesterday. It was blown up, as I mentioned earlier."

"Yes, of course. June said to meet her at the top floor. What _is_ on the top floor?"

"Your office," Kuroro replied. "I've seen it. It is a very pleasant place. Overly adorned with potpourri, I must confess, but I do enjoy the colouring of the walls and furnishing. Very sturdy, the furnishing. For various purposes."

"Alright," Midoya said slowly. "So I have a very nice office on the top floor. Why does June want us to go there?"

Kuroro shrugged. "Who knows? I have difficulty enough understanding you, that is the adult you who is my lover; I can't even begin to comprehend her evil alter ego."

"But that's not correct," Midoya said thoughtfully. "The way June described herself – a façade – that wasn't an accident. She is, at the very bottom of it, a very two-dimensional character, created mainly to sustain Midoya's… that is, my cover as a ruthless entrepreneur."

"True. In other words…?"

"In other words, she's a puppet really." Midoya glanced shyly at him. "It just depends on whose."

Interesting thoughts. The child was really starting to come into her own. She was growing stronger and tougher with each encounter – becoming more like the Midoya he knew. She even seemed taller.

Wait. She _was_ taller. "Well, we will find out once we reach the top floor I'm sure," Kuroro said, and patted her head with faked absent-mindedness. Yes, she was definitely taller. How very… odd.

"Kuroro."

"Yes, Midoya?"

"I understand that the plan is to follow the suspiciously helpful June and go to the top floor and all that…"

"I believe so, yes."

"But how are we actually _getting_ to the top floor?"

At that, Kuroro paused and looked around. All around him were endless corridors lined with doors leading off in every direction conceivable – all except up. There were no stairs, no slopes, no slides, no escalators, and certainly no elevators to be seen.

"Well now, that is just inconsiderate of them," he complained as he peered down each corridor in turn, trying to find one that led upwards.

"What are we to do then?" Midoya asked, looking around. "Shall we try the rooms?"

"We could, but I'm guessing we're likely to find only two people enjoying a rather private moment." Just in case, Kuroro stuck a head in a room and found himself proven wrong. "Pardon me," he said to the five more-or-less-people engaged in what seemed like rather painful sex, and closed the door.

So, in such a situation where there seemed to be no pre-existing way out, there was really only one thing to do.

"We're making our own entrance," Kuroro declared. "Stand back."

As the child scooted back, Kuroro paced up and down the corridor, scrutinising the ceiling carefully.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" Midoya asked warily.

"If you were your normal self, I would say yes. Unfortunately, I'm not really sure if your under-developed brain is capable of matching mine. But given that what I'm planning is something I would have expected more from Pepeka, your disciple, in case you have forgotten, I'm guessing even at eight, you would be perfectly capable of guessing what I'm planning. So, in short, yes, I am doing what you think I'm doing, and I am going to do exactly what you think I'm going to do."

"Oh dear. I am going to stand much, much further back then."

"Alright, but not too far; I don't want to have to chase after you if an evil monster kidnaps you again."

"Okay."

Once the child had retreated to an appropriate distance, Kuroro turned his attention to his chosen patch of ceiling. "I think that won't bring the entire roof down on us," he said hopefully.

"Are you sure?" the child asked dubiously.

Kuroro shrugged in a way that he was sure was not very comforting at all. "Only one way to find out."

With a little skip, some focused Nen, and a move reminiscent of a rather old video game he had seen Shalnark play, Kuroro put a fist through the ceiling directly above him. "Oof," he protested as he fell back to the ground, swiping at the dust and debris falling into his eyes. "Ugh. Can you see if the hole is big enough?"

"Ummm…" He heard the child come closer. "Yeah, I guess? Your shoulders are kind of broad, but they look like they will fit through if you squeeze a little."

"Oh, great." Kuroro coughed a little and peered up through the cloud of dust into the hole above.

Bright green eyes stared back at him.

"Oh bugger," Kuroro managed to say before the vines surged through the ceiling and wrapped around him.

In the distance, he heard Midoya scream, but he was too busy struggling against slippery, muscular vines to pay any attention to that. After nicking the vines a few times with his Benz, he reached the conclusion that like another patriarchal figure, this one was immune to the poison in his blade. Dropping his precious Benz, he managed to force his book open and keep it that way despite the thrashing vines. With a short burst of Nen, Kuroro summoned _Sightless Hell_ and blew those bright green eyes out.

The monster screamed, rearing up into the ceiling and then slamming down again. Unfortunately, Kuroro was still trapped in its vines when that happened, and he ended up smashing into the floor. Something in his back made an alarming cracking sound, but Kuroro didn't have time to worry about that too much. The monster was still thrashing about, slamming into walls and floor – and taking Kuroro along with it.

Grunting, Kuroro made an attempt to summon his poisonous katana, but a powerful vine knocked his book straight out of his hand.

"Kuroro!"

Kuroro blinked.

"Kuroro!"

Was that…?

"Kuroro!" Midoya's face suddenly emerged in front of his, her tiny, sunken face streaked with grime. "Here!" She shoved something solid and sturdy into his hand, and his fingers closed around it automatically.

His Benz. Oh good, he got his knife back. But what the hell did she expect him to do with that?

Well, it was a blade so obviously it was meant for poking unpleasant things.

So…

Flicking the knife around, he jabbed it straight into the vine holding his thigh. The monster howled again and lifted him up for another body-slamming.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Midoya cried as a vine knocked her over. "Father, you bastard! Why wouldn't you just go away?!"

And through the vines and the slime, Kuroro saw a silver blade, sharp and bright with Nen go straight through the monster's chest.

* * *

For a moment, he thought he would slip off and fall to his death below, but a giant hand gripped his waist so hard he could hardly breathe.

"Pardon me, Kurapika, sir," Julius said solemnly as he helped him back onto his seat. "Might I recommend you hang on tighter and not look down?"

"Yes, of course," Kurapika breathed, his heart still pounding rapidly in his chest, and tightened his grip on the thick, heavily starched collar he was perched on.

After some deliberation, they had eventually decided that the best way into Midoya's penthouse was through the elevator shaft. Sure, they could climb in through any of her windows, but on the walls of the building, they would be exposed to attacks by Pariston. By climbing up the elevator shaft, they at least had some chance of surprising the man.

At least, that was the conclusion they reached. They hadn't bothered to discuss more than that; there was no point. They already knew there was no way they could beat Pariston Hill, not even if everything went right. Even if they managed to surprise him, even if they miraculously managed to synchronise their fighting styles perfectly, even if Pariston decided not to fight them seriously, they already knew that their chances of winning were painfully low. The only thing they could do was try to revive Midoya before he killed them all.

So here he was now, sitting on Julius's boulder-like shoulders as the giant man climbed up the shaft easily like a giant, monstrous ape. Lucy was not far behind, somehow managing to drag her grotesquely swollen head up with stick-like arms. All three of them were using Zetsu. Kurapika felt that he should be surprised that these two creatures… people knew Nen, but he wasn't – not really at least. It had occurred to him that people as deformed as these two would have been the target of bullies and hatred all their lives – they, more than anyone else, would have searched for and found the power that was Nen.

"Sir, five stories more," Julius whispered, his voice suddenly so soft Kurapika had to strain to hear him even though they were practically cheek to cheek.

Kurapika glanced up into the dark shaft. He couldn't feel any presence save one – the Spider's. He already knew that Midoya was, for some reason, in a state of Zetsu, so that explained not being able to sense her. Where was Pariston Hill though? Was he out hunting for Kurapika or was he hiding in the penthouse like a cunning spider, waiting for them to walk into his trap?

"Be careful," Kurapika whispered, looking over his shoulder to give Lucy a look that he hoped conveyed the same message. She met his eyes only for the briefest second and bowed her head. Taking that as an affirmation of her understanding, Kurapika looked back up into the dark shaft.

The Spider's presence was a steady glow in the dark, dragging on the hem of his nerves and fraying them. It reminded him of what he was doing – saving his worst enemy, the man who had massacred his entire tribe, who had taken his best friends hostage, the man whose people he had killed. It reminded him that he didn't have a choice. If he wanted to save Midoya, he had to save him, had to save the man she threw her mind around to protect.

But did he want to? Did he have to? Who was Midoya anyway? She was just some Hunter he had met. She was… vile. She was immoral. She was evil. She was that bastard's lover. How could she stand to be touched by hands so stained with the blood of innocents? How could she bear to be around a man who would turn on her at the drop of a pin? How could she kiss lips that spilled nothing but lies and words of murder? It said something about her, didn't it? It showed how little she cared about injustices, about the deaths of others, about everything that was good and right in this world.

Yet… yet, these two, these two people were here trying to save her. They were monsters, deformed since birth. Undoubtedly, they've seen their fair share of violence and hatred – hatred brought on by nothing more than that they had been born with a different face and body. Yet, here they were, willingly serving as her servants even to the point of risking their own lives to fight a man whom they knew they could not defeat, a man whose wrath would burn them off the face of the earth in a split second.

Why would they do that if she wasn't worth saving?

What had they said? She had been kind to them. She had helped them when no one else had. What did that say about her? That she was kind, that she was capable of sympathy, even empathy. It said she wasn't superficial or callous, that she could see past their exteriors and recognise the goodness within their mutated bodies. It said that she… cared. She cared about the downtrodden, the victims of discrimination, those treated unfairly because they were different. It showed she cared about justice, about the lives of others, about everything that was wrong and must be righted in this world.

How could one woman be so paradoxical, so full of contradictions?

"Tell me," Kurapika whispered in Julius's ear. "You said Midoya helped you when no one else would. What did she do?"

Julius's head turned towards him and his beady, swollen eyes met Kurapika's. "Miss Kito held up a mirror to me and showed me who I am," the giant said softly, calmly. "She showed me that I am a monster, truly, fully, without any doubt whatsoever, and that I will never be human."

"How did that help you? I don't understand," Kurapika said, confused.

The giant smiled. "No, you wouldn't," he agreed. "Because you were born human. Because you were taught to value humanity. Because you were taught that anything else is vile and disgusting."

Kurapika looked up at the rapidly approaching battle. "Will you explain?" he asked, knowing that this was not the best time to ask this – and that it might be the last chance he had to understand.

The smile widened, revealing teeth that had been broken and never fixed. "I was born different," he replied. "I was born with this massive strength, the strength to tear down buildings and break down walls. All my life, I fought it, fought to cling on to the little that makes me human. I made myself smaller than I was, weaker than I was – until I met Miss Kito. And she showed me. I was born a monster. Why should I not live as one?" He smiled at Kurapika's expression. "I am not human, Kurapika, sir, not in the way that you are. People need only look at me to know that I am not like them. I can never fit into the world outside no matter how much I try. If I had continued as I was, I would have wasted my entire life living a lie. Miss Kito set me free. She showed me, you see, that it's alright to be a monster. Being a monster doesn't make you bad, as compared to being a human. It just makes you different, and difference isn't bad. It doesn't make you superior or inferior, good or evil. Difference just makes you different. Then she showed me that there're places in the world for monsters to be. Places where we can belong. People we can belong to. People who can belong to us."

"Places like this?" Kurapika glanced up. "And people like her."

"I have never been happier, if you will pardon my effusive sentimentality, Kurapika sir."

Huh. And wow.

"I will never fault you for that. It is not my right to, as a human being." Kurapika took in a deep breath as the first light from Midoya's penthouse touched his skin. "Thank you, Julius, for helping me understand. I know why I must do what we must do now. Are you ready?"

"Always, sir, always."

"Then let's go."

And in a flash, the doors were pulled open and they were in the penthouse.

* * *

The child was screaming, shrilly and frantically, and it was getting on his nerves.

Groaning in agony, Kuroro kicked off the heavy, limp vines draped over his body and struggled to his feet. Even though he was in a dream, every bruise and fracture made itself known to him with each jarring movement he made.

"Midoya," he grunted, holding on to the wall for support and feeling the wallpaper melt beneath his hands like wet pulp. "Midoya, stop screaming."

"Get it off! Get it off!" she shrieked, holding her hand out. "Get it out of me!"

Kuroro stared wearily at her hand. "I can't," he said frankly. "And frankly, you shouldn't be afraid."

"Shouldn't be afraid? Shouldn't be _afraid_?" she screamed. "There's a sword sticking out of my hand!" She held out her tiny palm to him with a frantic jerk – as if he could have missed the sight of a deadly weapon growing straight out from her flesh.

"Yes, yes, I can see that," Kuroro said, gingerly touching his head. "Why are you so frightened? It's just your Nen." He paused when his shaken brain finally processed that. "Hold on a minute," he said. "It's your Nen. What is your Nen doing here?"

Midoya ignored him as she stared in awe at her hand. "This is Nen? This is what it does? It makes swords grow out of your hand?"

"Well, for you, yes," Kuroro agreed since it was easier than explaining the complexity that is Nen. "But that is not the important thing here. Why and how are you using Nen? As far as I know, you weren't using Nen at this age."

"I wasn't," Midoya said, her eyes wide and distant. "Look. I killed Father." Her eyes flicked down to the gigantic carcass sprawled over the floor, most of the walls, and a little on the ceiling as well. "It's just like you said; I killed Father. He's… dead." Her face lit up in a wide, maniacal smile - and suddenly she looked so much like the Midoya Kuroro knew that he almost hugged her. Her being pretty much as tall as his knees fortunately stopped him from embarrassing himself.

"I seriously doubt it happened this way in real life," Kuroro warned her, but she didn't look like she was listening.

"He's dead," she repeated and looked at the sword embedded in her flesh. Then her eyes flicked up to meet Kuroro's, meeting and holding his eyes for the first time since he met her. "I think I like this Nen thing," she said and smiled the sweetest, most angelic smile he had ever seen in his life.

"It is addictive," Kuroro agreed. He patted her head gently and tried to make sense of this stirring sense of unease at the back of his mind. "At any rate, the way is clear. Come on, let's head up."

The child blinked. "Alright," she said with a nod. She reached out her arms for him to pick her up and Kuroro did, noting with some relief that she had remembered to withdraw her blade before she wrapped her hands around his neck. "Will I be able to summon my sword again?" she asked, examining the smooth flesh of her hands.

"I have no doubt," Kuroro told her honestly – and leapt through the ceiling.

The next floor resembled the one they had just left. Doors, some closed tight and some alluringly ajar, and corridors running in all directions but up. So Kuroro punched through the ceiling again and again. And again and again. And again and again.

Time drifted past or perhaps it stopped altogether. It made no difference to them. There was always another ceiling and always another hole to go through. Kuroro's mind floated away even as his body repeated the same action over and over again. Punch, jump, run, punch, jump, run, punch jump run punch jump run punch-jump-run-punch-jump-run-punch-jump-run-punch-jump-run-punch-

"Ow!" Kuroro protested, instinctively pressing his throbbing fist to his side in agony. Frowning, he examined his knuckles, now torn and broken, then glared at the ceiling. Instead of breaking like the ones below, this particular piece of concrete had resisted his attempts to bash it in. It had even retaliated, large, thick icicles leaping out of it as if from a spring, and poking holes in his flesh. "That is inconvenient," Kuroro complained.

"Why this patch of ceiling?" Midoya asked, peering around his head to look at the offending piece of architecture. "Everything else broke easily enough."

"Perhaps we need to try another spot," Kuroro muttered.

"Or perhaps we should try that," Midoya suggested, pointing down a corridor.

A glance in that direction revealed an elevator, its door left open invitingly. "Oh that is definitely a trap," Kuroro said with great certainty.

"I would think so, yes," Midoya agreed. "What do we do?"

"Only one thing to do, of course," Kuroro sighed – and stepped right in.

Immediately, the doors shut with a quiet whoosh of perfumed air. "Going up," an electronic voice said.

"Oh good," Kuroro said – then blinked when the doors whooshed open again to reveal Midoya's office.

The last time he was here, Midoya's office had been a very pleasant and sensual place, with rose-coloured walls, the scent of flowers floating through the air, and sturdy-looking dark wood furniture. Now, the entire room was encased in ice. It wasn't pretty, flat ice either. It was sharp, dangerous-looking icicles clawing out of the walls and ceilings like swords stuck through butter. They even thrust out from the furniture.

Right in the centre of the room was a chair Kuroro was intimately familiar with. When he last saw it, he had been strapped to it as Midoya and he renegotiated the terms of their relationship. In a sort of surreal reversal, June Kito was now strapped to it. She was slumped over in the chair, held up only by leather straps across her torso and thighs, and metal chains cuffing her wrists and ankles. Tiny icicles covered the chair, digging into any exposed skin and drawing pinpricks of blood that trickled down her flawless, snowy skin. Right around the chair was a sturdy wall of ice, at least a metre thick, trapping her inside.

"Oh my goodness… June," Midoya whispered, wriggling out of Kuroro's arms so she could peer into the ice. "Is she alright? Are you alright?"

Long dark lashes fluttered, but June Kito did not move. "Alright, not good," Kuroro muttered and started to pace around the prison. It didn't take him long. It wasn't that big at all. "I can't see a way of opening this," he said, tapping the ice.

"Couldn't you break the ice down?" Midoya asked.

"Not without hurting and perhaps killing June." Kuroro leaned closer to the ice again – then drew back when black eyes snapped open to glare at him.

"Took you long enough," June Kito said coldly.

"At least I'm here," Kuroro pointed out mildly – because it's never good to let someone so powerful know she had gotten the drop on you.

June Kito sneered openly at him. "Oh bravo. How heroic of you."

"I could have left you to die."

"But instead, you came to poor little old me's rescue. My, what a Herculean figure you cut."

Well, this conversation was obviously not going to be productive at all. Ignoring her, Kuroro started to pace around the prison again, fingers feeling the ice for any sort of weakness.

"Are you looking for a way in?"

"Of course, June."

"Allow me to rephrase. Are you looking for a way in by repeating exactly what you just did which failed to reveal a way in?"

Kuroro shot her a stern look even as he continued to trace the ice. "I could leave you in here."

"Yes, that is precisely what you will do," June Kito agreed.

"Yes, of… what?" Kuroro's eyebrow went up. "Are you serious?"

"Indeed I am," June Kito said with a curt nod. "It is too late for me. Save Midoya though and you may yet save me. She's my god and can bring me back to life as many times as she wishes."

"I don't understand," Midoya said, pressing her tiny hands to the ice prison. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

A smile, as cold as a blade and as thin as a wound, spread across June Kito's face. "Not yet, but soon," she said and nodded at her ice prison.

For a moment, Kuroro could not understand what she was referring to. Then he saw it and he knew what was going to happen. "Any last words before you go?" he asked instead.

"Many." June Kito fixed him with a cold glare. "I know where you must go next. It is knowledge that I went through some great pains to gain."

Finally, a proper, non-cryptic, direct and explicit piece of information. Kuroro was almost willing to forgive June Kito for being such a rude and arrogant capitalist. "I do hope Midoya manages to bring you back to life," he told her fondly.

"Oh shut up. The last thing I need to hear is you drivelling saccharine, disgusting sentimentality over my not-quite-dead corpse. Do you think I'm a whore in a B-grade porno and you're an oiled up beefcake with an artificially-endowed penis and a terrible screen name that just screams over-compensation? Keep the filthy ejaculations away from me, if you please. I'd rather eat maggots than go through that."

Alright, it seemed he wasn't quite ready to forgive her many sins just yet. If only she wasn't so useful; he could just walk away and leave her to die. "Tell us what we need to know," he said instead.

"First sensible thing you've said all day. You have to…" Her voice cut off abruptly even though Kuroro could still see her lips moving.

"I can't hear you," he said, leaning up to the ice. "June, I can't hear you."

She frowned at him and visibly raised her voice, but still he could not hear a single word she said.

"I can't hear you," he repeated. "There's something… it's like something's stopping me from…" He broke off when the ice prison suddenly gave off a loud, cracking sound. Slowly, he backed away from the prison, staring at it intently. He had already noticed that the inside walls of the prison were slowly, steadily closing in on the woman trapped within, not so much compressing inwards but growing thicker and shrinking the space within. Now, he saw that it was speeding up, the walls expanding as rapidly as spilled water flowing over a table top. "Oh dear," he said and looked up at June's face. "Oh… dear."

June Kito stared back, her entire body so tensed he could see the hollows of her cheeks clearly. She started to speak, her lips moving fast, but though Kuroro should be able to read them, he couldn't understand a word she was saying.

"Slow down," Kuroro tried. "Slow down and repeat yourself."

A look of pure frustration flickered across her face and she tried again. Still, Kuroro could not catch what she said.

Suddenly, the restraints on June Kito broke. She immediately leapt to her feet, pressing her hands urgently against the ice encasing her. But it was too late. Already, she barely had any room left to stand.

"Try again," Kuroro said calmly, pressing his palms over hers. "Tell me what I need to know. Tell me."

She pressed against the ice, her eyes drilling into his, but Kuroro just couldn't get what she was saying.

"I'm going to hit the ice down," Kuroro said calmly. "Midoya, move back."

Midoya turned to stare at him, her face filled with an almost feral desperation. "But you said…"

"We are past that point. There is nothing we can do now that can possibly make the situation worse," Kuroro replied sharply. "Move." As Midoya scrambled up and ran back several feet, he drew Nen around his fist and advanced on the ice. Just once, he looked up to meet June's eyes. She stared back and shook her head. "We have no choice," he told her.

Again, she shook her head, her teeth gritted and her eyes narrowed with anger. This time, Kuroro hesitated. He had the feeling she wasn't telling him not to break the ice; she was trying to tell him… something. Something he wasn't getting.

"I don't understand," he told her. "I'm sorry."

She threw up her hands angrily then stumbled backwards when the ice slowly nudged her away. With more grace and dignity than most people in such a situation could have managed, she climbed onto the chair even as the ice ate up the last of her leg-room.

It was now or never. Without giving her time to react, Kuroro slammed his fist against the ice wall – and nothing happened. Kuroro barely felt any shock at that; somehow, he had expected that. But he tried again, punching the ice as hard as he could. Each time, tiny flakes of ice sprang out like snow in the wind – but there was hardly a crack in the ice wall. Amidst the punching, Kuroro's eyes met June's and she stared at him with thwarted rage.

Her hands pressed against the glass again. She didn't even have to extend her arms. The seat below her was starting to crumple. Jaw clenched, Kuroro drew his poisonous katana and slammed it against the ice. He didn't even chip it.

Gently, Kuroro placed his hand on the ice against June's. Her hands clawed at the ice as if she were trying to reach him. Again, her lips moved, but Kuroro could only shrug helplessly. Her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply, either in anger or in resignation.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "I am very sorry."

"Oh god," Midoya gasped from behind him.

Her eyes snapped open and she snarled at him openly. Her nails dug into the ice and she clawed at it so violently she tore her nails out. For a moment, Kuroro thought she had lost her mind – then he saw what she was trying to do.

"P…" he read as she smudged her bloody fingers over the ice. "E… go on. Go on, June."

The ice was now wrapped around her so tightly he could see it cutting into her skin. Her fingers worked urgently even as the ice started to constrict around her.

"N… yes… yes…"

She choked violently as blood spilled out of her lips. Defiantly, she swiped at her mouth and used the blood to continue writing.

"Oh god, Kuroro! Do something!"

"Close your eyes and don't look. Okay, I get that one. Next."

A shudder ran through June's face and her eyes rolled into her skull. Still, her fingers spread over the ice, saying what her lips could not.

"Oh," Kuroro said slowly. "Oh, I see. Thank you."

Then he turned away from her, wrapping his arms around Midoya just as the ice prison slowly, painfully filled up with a sickening crunch.

Midoya gave a tiny scream then fell silent in his arms.

"Oh… god…" she whispered. "I… I…"

"Don't look," Kuroro said, rubbing her back. "Don't look. There's nothing left to see."

Midoya shook her head and gave a tiny sob. "She… she's… oh god."

"Yes, indeed she is – that brave woman."

"Did you... she was… she was writing. What did she say?

"Exactly what I needed to know."

"Really?" Midoya turned her tear-streaked face up to look at him. "What?"

And Kuroro's eyes glowed gleefully as he said, "Penthouse."

* * *

"_Oh lord, she's beautiful. Oh my god. Oh my god. She's so beautiful. She is everything I have ever dreamed of. Look, Miharu, look! She has your eyes and your nose! But is that my chin I spy on her? Oh lord, she has my chin! My chin! Can you believe it? She has my chin! Oh, how precious she is. Oh my sweet child, my sweet, precious heir. I swear that till my dying breath, I will protect you with my life. No matter the cost, no matter what it takes, I will never let anyone hurt you."_

Mahou Kito to his wife after the maids had extracted their newborn child from the washing machine he had thrown her into.


End file.
